Sons of Eden
by Senor Sparklefingers
Summary: The end of the world came and went, and with Desmond gone and Juno free, William Miles has returned home to his second son. A post-AC3 fix-it fic about two brothers and life after the end of the world.
1. The Second Soldier

All his life, Duncan Miles had one goal: to not be like his older brother.

Granted, Duncan had never actually _met_ his brother, but he'd heard enough stories about him growing up to know that he never wanted to be like Desmond Miles. Desmond was the ultimate example of what not to do, a cautionary tale brought out by his father whenever he thought that Duncan was falling behind in his training.

'Desmond was a screw up.' 'Desmond abandoned his family, his legacy, and our cause. He's as bad as a traitor.' 'You don't want to be like Desmond, Duncan.' 'You can always try harder and do better, Duncan, do you WANT to end up like Desmond?'

He would never admit it, but Duncan was terrified of turning out like Desmond. He didn't want to be a failure in the eyes of his father, or a disappointment in the eyes of his mother. Any time his brother came up in conversation, his father got so angry…and his mother…

He never saw her looking sadder than she did any time Desmond was mentioned. And even though he was just a kid, Duncan knew he never wanted to hurt his parents like Desmond had hurt them. Ever.

So Duncan trained. He made sure to run faster, climb harder, and push himself harder, because he _wasn't Desmond_. He didn't want to be Desmond.

And if the other kids thought he got special treatment because he was the Mentor's son, if they ignored him and talked about him behind his back, well…it would be worth it in the end. He'd be the best Assassin he could be, and he'd make his father proud of him.

His father would smile at him, and nod, and tell him how proud he was of him. Of Duncan. Without mentioning Desmond even once.

Duncan Miles was nine years old, and he had only one goal: to never turn out like his brother.

To never be a failure. To escape the ever looming shadow of Desmond Miles and his mistakes.

To never let his father down.

* * *

_December 24, 2012_

It had been over 72 hours since William Miles had been in contact with his family. To Duncan, that only meant one thing: his dad was in trouble.

Dad was late. Dad was never late, not unless he had a very good reason to be…and even then, he usually sent a message ahead to let somebody know that he'd be delayed. If he was late in checking in back home now, something must have happened. Something bad.

Dad had been gone for a few months now, on an incredibly important mission that he refused to tell Duncan anything about. All he'd been told was that his father would be home sometime around Christmas, and that everything was going to be okay, so he had no reason to worry.

Naturally, Duncan was incredibly worried.

He knew his father was a man of many secrets, and that he rarely told Duncan exactly what was going on outside the Farm, but being told that he had no reason to worry had set him on edge. He loved his dad very much, but William Miles wasn't the most openly affectionate or comforting person, not even when it came to his young son. Telling Duncan not to worry had immediately set him on edge, because his dad was trying to reassure him, trying to comfort him.  
Whatever his father was going off to do must have been truly terrible and dangerous for him to do that.

It had been easy for Duncan to not think about his dad and what he was up to when there were still classes and training sessions to keep his mind busy. But with Christmas coming up, they'd been given the week off from classes and training. Now there was nothing to stop Duncan from sitting at his mother's laptop, refreshing her email every few minutes in the hope that something would pop up.

"Duncan!"

Duncan shot up from the laptop, turning around to face his mother, who was, at that moment, giving him a look that screamed concern and irritation in equal measure.

"Duncan, I told you not to go into my email. I know you're worried about your father, but that constant refreshing isn't going to change anything." Her face softened into a slight smile as she continued. "Especially considering he just called."

"Dad called? Is he okay? What's going on, is he coming back soon? The Templars didn't get him, did they?"

His mother just shook her head as she moved to pull him into a quick hug.

"He didn't say much…just that he'd be back some time tonight."

His mother sounded so wistful as she said that, and he didn't understand why. She knew more about Dad's mission than he did, and he wondered if something had happened that was making her act so oddly. So…happy. He didn't get it. Dad went on missions all the time, what made this one so special?

Before he could ask any more questions, his mom shooed him away from the computer with a smile.

"Now, off the computer, mister! If your father's going to be coming home tonight, I need to get the rest of my work done so I can get ready."

Duncan nodded and smiled at his mom before heading upstairs to his room. Dad was coming home tonight, Mom seemed to be in a good mood…whatever was going on, it had to be good. Maybe his dad was right when he told him not to worry. Maybe everything was going to be okay, just like he said.

* * *

Duncan was upstairs reading in his room when he heard somebody knock on the front door. That was odd. Usually, they didn't get visitors unless Dad was home, and even then, the only people who ever visited had work to do with the Mentor. It was well known around the Farm that the Mentor was off on an incredibly important mission. Why would they be getting visitors now?

Frowning, Duncan put his book aside and pushed himself off his bed, heading downstairs to get the door and shoo away whoever it was. From the sound of running water down the hall, he figured his mom was still occupied in the shower. So, whoever wanted to see her or Dad would just have to come back tomorrow to discuss business.

After all, Dad would be home by then.

Grabbing the handle, he moved to pull back the door, opening it to stare at the man who'd been knocking.

He was a tall, skinny man, wearing glasses and a grey sweater that made his hair seem even redder than it was. Duncan stared up at him for a moment, and the man stared back, a bewildered look on his face. "Er…sorry, we must have the wrong address. We're looking for the Miles residence?"

Ah. So they were colleagues of Dad. Duncan smiled slightly and shook his head at the man. "Nope, you've got the right place, but if you're here to see my parents, they're currently unavailable."

If anything, the man seemed to grow more confused at that, moving to shout over his shoulder for a woman named Rebecca to join him. Duncan simply stared at the woman as she ran over, not sure what to make of her.

"Look, Shaun, I need to get the equipment out the van, whatever—oh, woah."

Like the man—Shaun, Duncan mentally noted—the woman stared at him with shock, before the shock gave way to a look of anger as she turned to Shaun. "You don't think…"

"Oh, I do indeed. And it would be just like Bill to not mention this little detail, wouldn't it?"

"…Yeah, it would be. But we don't know for sure, Shaun. Let's just wait and ask Bill when he's done with the equipment, okay?"

Duncan watched the two for a moment, before coughing. It seemed they'd both forgotten he was there, and they looked down on him.

"Uh…look, if you're here to see my mom, she's sort of occupied at the moment…if you want to wait, you're more than welcome to, otherwise you can come back tomorrow…"

Shaun looked like was about to say something, but stopped as a familiar voice cut him off. "Rebecca, whatever Shaun needs can wait, we need to move this equipment, and I can't do all the work by…myself…"

Duncan couldn't help but light up as he saw the familiar form of William Miles approach the door. So, these people DID work with his dad. And they'd brought him home! "Dad!"

He pushed past Shaun and Rebecca and rushed over to his father, stopping just short of hugging him. "Welcome home, sir!" he grinned up at his father, who gave him a tired smile in response. It was only then that he noticed how tired his father actually looked, how he looked like he'd aged years in the few months he'd been gone. Not for the first time, Duncan wondered exactly what his father had been up to…but it didn't really matter, did it? Not now that he was home.

"Pardon me, Bill, but did I hear him correctly? I couldn't have, because you would've mentioned having another son before now. This has to just be your nephew, right?"

There was an accusatory tone to Shaun's voice that Duncan didn't like. His father was silent for a moment, before sighing. "…Shaun. Rebecca. This is Duncan…my son."

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by Rebecca letting out a deep breath, face unreadable. William sighed quietly, looking down at Duncan. "Maybe we should take this conversation inside…"

Duncan glanced over at his father's coworkers, confused about why things had suddenly become so tense. Shaun looked furious, and Rebecca, face still impossible to read, sighed and nodded. "That might be best."

* * *

"So, stop me if I'm wrong. You have _another _son, whose existence you never bothered to mention?"

Duncan had decided he didn't like Shaun very much. Ever since they got into the house, the man had done nothing but yell at his dad, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"For the last time, Shaun, yes, I do, and at the time, Duncan's existence seemed secondary to what we were trying to achieve."

"_Secondary_? You have ANOTHER SON that you never bothered to mention to the ONE person who would've loved to know about him? How is that secondary? This could've changed everything!"

He didn't understand. What was so important about him? He wasn't old enough to go out on proper training missions yet, he wasn't anything special…what did he ever do to make Shaun so mad? "Dad…?"

The room went quiet as he spoke up. He wanted to know what was going on, why his dad had brought these people home, why they were so angry…what he'd done to make them angry, how he could fix it… His father knelt down to face him. "Yes, Duncan?"

"Dad, I don't understand…who exactly are these people?"

Before his dad could say anything, Shaun shot his father (and possibly him, he couldn't really tell) a dirty look. "I'm Shaun Hastings, this is my colleague Rebecca Crane, and we're friends of your brother, who, I'm sure—", he stopped to shoot William another dark look, "would have been overjoyed to know he had a little brother."

Ah. They were friends of Desmond's. That explained why Duncan didn't like Shaun…if all the stories he'd heard about Desmond were true, then of course he'd be friends with a loud, rude, redheaded person.

Though…why would his father bring friends of Desmond's here? He _hated_ Desmond…

"Shaun, you know why I couldn't tell Desmond about Duncan," his father said, looking exasperated and tired and so old all of a sudden…

Wait, his father had seen Desmond? Desmond, the trouble child who ran away? Desmond, the horror story that he could never, ever turn in to? What was going on here?

"Dad, I thought that Desmond turned his back on the family legacy and abandoned the Assassin cause…if he was as good as a traitor, why did you bring his friends home?"

The room got eerily quiet again. Shaun looked like he would erupt into another yelling tirade at any moment, and Rebecca, who had been quiet this whole time, shot his dad a look that he could only describe as murderous before speaking up. "I see you stretched the truth about Desmond, Bill."

With that, Shaun went off on William again.

"Oh, so you had a good reason, Bill? I'm sure you did. In fact, I'd love to hear the reason why you kept this from everybody! After all, what's it going to change now? Maybe if you'd told him, he'd be here with us! And really? A traitor, Bill? Desmond may have abandoned the Brotherhood for a while, but he was hardly a traitor, and you KNOW that. What the hell have you been telling this kid?"

Before he could continue, William finally snapped back at Shaun, pulling himself up to his full height and looking as angry as Duncan had ever seen him (and his dad got angry a lot).

"How do you think Desmond would've reacted to hearing about Duncan, hm? It would've been a disaster, another setback, another distraction. We were on a very short time limit, and we were having enough problems without dragging the Miles family drama into things. The mission was the important thing, in the end, and Desmond knew that, as did you and Rebecca."

And just as fast as he'd gotten angry, his father seemed to lose all that energy, looking very old and full of regret as he sighed. "I had planned on telling him, after this was all over. Obviously, that never happened. In the end, we didn't have enough time. Would telling him about Duncan have changed things? I don't know. It doesn't really matter now, does it."

"…you didn't tell him?"

Everybody froze at the unexpected voice, and Duncan turned around to face his mother, who had finally come downstairs from the shower. She wasn't looking at him, though. She was staring straight at his father, a look of hurt confusion on her face, as if something was very wrong.

His father looked at his mother, taking a step towards her.

"Beth, I—"

"Don't you 'Beth' me, William. Did you or did you not tell Desmond about Duncan? And where is he, anyway? I thought he would be with you?"

Shaun and Rebecca stared at William in disbelief; Rebecca's face quickly turning to anger. "Bill…you didn't _tell her?_ What the HELL were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it would be better to tell her in person!"

Duncan got a sinking feeling in his stomach as his mother glared at his father. Oh, this was bad. He didn't know what was going on, why everybody was so angry, why his mother looked so furious, why his father looked so old and sad all of a sudden.

He just knew that they were probably going to start fighting again. They'd done it enough times that he was able to tell when they were going to start yelling and screaming at each other, and he knew he didn't want to be there when it started.

Ignored by everybody else in the room, Duncan quickly snuck past his mother and headed upstairs to his room, closing the door quietly behind him as he heard his mom question his father once more.

"Bill. Where is Desmond?"

* * *

Duncan wasn't sure how long his parents had been arguing for. It had to have been over an hour by this point, or if not that, it certainly felt like it had been a long time. He couldn't quite make out exactly what they were fighting about, and he certainly didn't want to go back downstairs to listen in person.

Every so often, he would catch bits and pieces of what they were yelling about; nothing concrete just words and phrases. He'd heard his name once or twice, but mostly, what he'd heard seemed to be about Desmond. He wasn't surprised. Whenever his parents fought, it usually had something to do with Desmond.

At one point, he thought he'd heard his mom crying.

When he'd heard that, it had killed any curiosity he'd had about what they might have been fighting about this time. If it was bad enough to make his mom cry, he didn't want to know.

So, he was flipping through a book, waiting for them to finally stop and for the people his dad brought home with him to just go away so things could get back to normal, when somebody knocked on his bedroom door. Given that he could still hear his parents yelling downstairs (he could still hear his mother crying), it was probably one of the people Dad had brought home. There was a part of Duncan that just wanted to ignore them until they went away, to pretend they weren't there because this was all their fault, wasn't it?

But Duncan wasn't like Desmond. He was the good child, the one that did what his father asked him to, who was polite and nice even when he didn't want to be. So he opened his door and looked up at Rebecca, who gave him a small smile and a nod. "Hey there. Mind if I come in?"

He did mind, in fact. If she and Shaun weren't here, maybe his parents wouldn't be fighting right now. Maybe they'd be getting ready for Christmas while his dad told him as much as he could about his mission, and he could tell him how well he'd been doing in his training classes lately.

But again, he was better than that. So he simply nodded and stepped aside from the door, letting her into his room.

For a moment, they both stood there in awkward silence. Duncan didn't know what she wanted, and he didn't really know what to say to her. He was almost grateful when she gestured over to his book, because it meant they had something to talk about, at least. "So, uh…whatcha reading?"

"It's a standard high school history textbook used in American public schools. I'm going through looking for logical fallacies that could hint at signs of Templar rewrites and propaganda. It's part of my training."

Duncan always enjoyed talking about his training, so he couldn't understand why Rebecca was giving him such a pitying look. They fell back into an awkward, uncomfortable silence after that, before he spoke up again. "Did something happen to Desmond?"  
Rebecca nodded, sighing. "Yeah," she paused for a second, like she was trying to figure out what to say next, "Desmond….Desmond's dead, Duncan."

…oh.

Desmond was dead. His older brother was dead…and he didn't feel anything. He knew he should feel sad, or angry, or something, but…he didn't. He'd never met Desmond. All he'd ever heard about him were stories from his parents, and even those were more like cautionary tales of what not to do than anything else. He had no real connections to Desmond. So he couldn't mourn the brother he'd never met because he had no real reason to care.

"Hey…are you okay?"

Duncan blinked and looked up at Rebecca. He'd been so lost in thought, trying to get his feelings (or lack thereof) together, that he'd almost forgotten she was there. She was giving him a concerned look, and he just nodded at her, feeling awkward and a little guilty that he didn't really feel anything for his dead brother. "Yeah, I'm okay, I was just thinking, that's all. I never met him…what was he like in person?"

Rebecca blinked at that, smiling sadly and shaking her head. "I didn't know him for too long. Only a few months, and it was all strictly work related, but…he was a good guy. Funny, nice…he went through a lot of crap, and he sacrificed a lot, but he didn't give up, or quit…I wish I'd had the chance to really get to know him better, away from the mission."

She sighed, shaking her head. "He would've loved to know about you, though. He would've loved being a big brother..."  
Rebecca was quiet for a minute after that, before she gave Duncan a weak smile. "Anyway, I just wanted to check and see how you were doing, say hi…Shaun and I are going to be in the area for a while, so we'll be around, okay?"

Duncan just nodded, not saying goodbye to Rebecca as she left his room. She'd said Desmond was a good guy…that he didn't quit, that he sacrificed…but all he'd ever heard about Desmond was that he had been a screw-up who ran away and abandoned his heritage. He just couldn't reconcile those two images together. Somebody had to be lying. He just wasn't sure who.

He could still hear his parents fighting downstairs. His mother was still crying, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard his father crying as well. For a moment, Duncan considered cracking his door open to listen downstairs and hear exactly what they were fighting about. But he had too much on his mind, too many conflicting thoughts about the brother he never knew, about what his father had told him, what Rebecca had told him…

As Duncan went to bed that night, still hearing his mother sobbing and shouting at his father downstairs, he thought about Desmond, and decided that what Rebecca said couldn't be true. If he was a good person, why would he have run away in the first place, and put their family through so much pain?

* * *

Two days later, Beth Miles was gone.

Duncan had come downstairs to find his father sitting on the living room couch, head resting in his hands, just staring straight ahead. If he'd heard Duncan come down, he didn't react to him. Duncan looked at him briefly, before moving to the kitchen, hoping his mother was there with breakfast waiting. When she wasn't there, he frowned and headed back to the living room. She hadn't been upstairs, she wasn't in the kitchen…So where was she?

Still frowning, Duncan moved to sit next to his father on the couch. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything, until Duncan broke the silence. "Dad…?"

"Yes, son?"

"Where's Mom?"

His father was quiet for a moment. "She left, son."

"…you think she'll come back soon, Dad?"

"…no. I don't think so."

William sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, before turning to Duncan. "Son…I know that I've been hard on you in the past. I've pushed you a bit too much at times, I'm not the most affectionate parent…I've made a lot of mistakes. With Desmond, and with you."

Duncan just blinked at his dad, confused. Where was this coming from? Did this have to do with Desmond dying…or with Mom leaving? His dad was acting so…unlike himself. It was odd, and a little scary, seeing him like this. "Dad, I don't understand…is this because of Desmond?"

William nodded. "Desmond died saving the world, and I never got to show him how much he meant to me. There wasn't enough time, in the end. I can't guarantee that I'll ever be the perfect father, but...things will be different from now on."

Duncan couldn't help but involuntarily stiffen as his father hugged him awkwardly. His dad was never an openly affectionate person, usually, and the only times he ever actively tried to comfort his younger son was when something bad was about to happen. One thing stuck with Duncan above all else, though: Desmond had died saving the world.

Desmond had died saving the world, and now Duncan could never escape his shadow. Before, he'd had a chance, because Desmond was the screw up, and Duncan had known that someday his father would praise him without mentioning Desmond once.

But now…nothing he ever did would be good enough, because Desmond had died saving the world. How could he top that?

And on top of that…his mom was gone. She'd left, and she didn't take him with her…she hadn't said goodbye to him. He always thought maybe she'd liked Desmond more than him…this just proved it, as far as Duncan was concerned. Her favorite son was dead, why stick around for him?

When Rebecca had told him Desmond was dead, he hadn't felt anything towards his brother. Now, though, thinking of Desmond made him angry. Desmond had taken his mom from him. Desmond had died and made it so he could never escape from the shadow of his actions, good or bad. Desmond had made it so that their father would never look at him and just see Duncan, or Duncan's achievements.

There had been a time when Duncan was afraid of Desmond, afraid of being anything like him. Now, though?

Now, Duncan hated Desmond.


	2. Miles End

_It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain._

One of the last conscious thoughts Desmond had before everything went dark was ''no pain' my ass'. The instant he touched the pedestal, it felt like every inch of him was on fire, like an electrical current was surging through his body, sapping away his energy and leaving nothing but pain behind. He couldn't ever scream, the agony was too great.  
He felt his grip on the pedestal slipping, and he shakily grabbed onto his right arm, forcing it to stay still. There was no turning back now. He had to see this through.  
It may have only lasted an instant, but it felt like an eternity, and as Desmond collapsed, for a brief second, he saw an intricate pattern of lines glow bright blue on his ruined arm before fading away, and he thought he heard a voice echoing through his mind as he started to black out.  
_  
'Saving your ass one last time, huh, Desmond…'_

Then the darkness overcame him, and Desmond knew nothing at all.

* * *

Desmond awoke to darkness and the smell of charred flesh. As his mind slowly caught up to his body, regaining awareness of his surroundings, he realized: He was alive. He was _alive_.

That wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be dead! Any joy that he might have felt at his miraculous survival was overwhelmed the panic bubbling inside him. He was alive…did he somehow screw this up? Had he somehow managed to release Juno AND let the world burn?

Oh, God…his father…Shaun, Rebecca…he'd told them to go, he thought that they'd be safe outside the Temple when this all ended…had he just doomed them to die faster?

He couldn't breathe. Oh, god, he couldn't breathe, and as he tried to sit up, the world started to spin as his body was wracked with pain. He had to get out of the Temple. He had to see exactly how horribly wrong things had gone.

The world tilted as he tried to stand up, and Desmond stumbled back as he finally made it to his feet. He could barely stand, everything hurt, and he used what little energy he had to stumble past the pedestal and dry heave in a corner, breathing heavily. As he tried to calm himself down, tried to get his breath back and stop the racing of his heart, he moved to lean against a nearby wall for support, briefly glancing over at his right arm. It was a charred, ruined mess, and—

Wait. When he had touched the pedestal, there had been lines glowing on his arm. It had only been there for a second, near the very end, but they had been there all the same. And they hadn't been unfamiliar, either…he'd seen them before.

When he came out of his coma. After Animus Island. After Clay. For a brief moment, his arm had a glowing pattern on it, mirroring the lines on the surface of the Apple. Then it had faded away, and he'd forgotten about it, chalked it up to more First Civ weirdness that couldn't be explained in a way a normal person could understand.

But if that had been all it was, why had it shown up again? Desmond frowned, looking at his arm once more. There were no signs of the glowing lines there now. There was nothing but the badly burned remains of what had once been his arm. His frown deepened. He knew that his right hand had been the one touching the pedestal, but he'd felt that searing pain _everywhere_. Why was the damage mostly concentrated to that one spot?

Before he'd blacked out, he thought he'd heard a voice. It couldn't have been Juno, though…the voice was in his head, male, and it had sounded familiar…

His eyes widened, and it all came together. The lines. The voice. His survival.

'_What if I went with you? It could work. Just for a while. Until I found a way out. Another body, maybe. Or…I don't know. I just…I don't want to be here anymore.'_

'_I'm saving you, idiot! Go! GO!'_

Desmond blinked, running his left hand through his hair as he laughed weakly, the panic he had been feeling previously slowly ebbing away. Of course. That hug, near the very end, on Animus Island…Clay could've just pushed him, said nothing to him, but instead he'd held him for almost a moment too long as reality fractured around them. And his choice of last words…it all came down to how he'd heard them.

'_I'm saving, you idiot! Go!'_

Desmond just smiled sadly and shook his head, wiping his eyes (when had he started crying?) with his one good arm as he pushed himself away from the wall.

"Oh, Clay…you unbelievable bastard. You said there was no such thing as guardian angels…"

So. He was alive, and now he knew why, which meant that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't screwed this up. Maybe the world didn't end after all. There was only one way to find out, though.

Desmond walked shakily past the pedestal, ignoring the pain that surged through his body with every step. His bag had fallen off his shoulder at some point, the shattered remains of his hidden blade and the Apple of Eden spilling out across the floor. There was a part of him that was surprised his father hadn't asked him to take it out of the Temple before he sent them away, but maybe there just hadn't been enough time for him to ask. It didn't really matter now, though.

Uncertain of what fate awaited him outside, Desmond left the Temple behind him.

* * *

The first thing he noticed as he finally made it out of the Temple, after noting that getting out was more difficult than getting in (especially with one working arm), was that the ground had shifted. Trees that had been standing only hours (Days? Weeks? How long had he been out for?) before had fallen over, there were roots sticking out everywhere, and that there were large cracks in multiple parts of the earth.

His stomach tightened. It wasn't much, but these were signs that there had been an earthquake not too long ago. He knew that when he had touched the pedestal, the end had already started…had he been too late anyway? Was his attempted sacrifice still not enough to save the world?

It wasn't enough to go on, but it worried him nonetheless. Desmond stood very still by the entrance to the Temple and listened for any sign of life in the area. Birds, people, animals, cars in the distance, _anything._

He was met with silence, and his heart sank. It wasn't enough to go on, but it wasn't a good sign, and the fear he'd felt inside the Temple upon realizing he was alive started to come back. What if Clay's intervening on his behalf at the very end had screwed the whole process up somehow? Maybe the world hadn't burned, but the end had found another way to come?

He couldn't know that just by staying here. The entrance to the Temple wasn't exactly close to civilization, and it _was_ nighttime…he had to keep going. He had to know for sure what had happened. If he'd failed.

So he kept going. One foot in front of the other, ignoring the pain that shot through him every time he moved, Desmond walked through the night, past freshly downed trees and torn up earth, heading (hopefully) back towards civilization.

He didn't know how long he'd been walking for when he finally made it back to one of the main roads that cut through the woods, but he couldn't keep going forever. He still didn't know how long he'd been under for, every movement hurt, he could barely stand…he couldn't quit, not until he found people, but the last of his energy reserves were running dry.

Desmond could have wept with joy at the sound of a car coming up the road, headlights illuminating the darkness.

Cars meant people. People meant that it had _worked_, that the world hadn't ended…he let out a short, weak laugh, sounding half mad as the approaching car got closer.

It had worked. The world was safe…Shaun, Rebecca, his father…they were all okay…

His last thoughts before he collapsed and the darkness reclaimed him once more were of relief.

* * *

Desmond awoke to bright lights and the sound of beeping machines. He groaned, moving to rub at his eyes as he tried to remember what had happened. He'd left the Temple...he'd been walking, there had been a car, and then nothing. What happened? He must've passed out, but he definitely wasn't in the woods now.

"Nnngh…where am I…"

He groaned again, trying to hoist himself up with his arms so he could get a better view of wherever he was now, only to yelp in surprise as he collapsed onto his right side. He blinked and moved to look at his right arm, remembering how badly it had been damaged by the pedestal. Maybe that was why he couldn't support himself on that side.

As he moved to examine his right side, he suddenly realized why he couldn't support himself, why he couldn't feel anything on his right arm.

His right arm was gone.

It had been cleanly severed several inches below the shoulder, all signs of the destroyed flesh gone. He just stared at the stump where his arm had been in silence. But…he'd had his arm with him when he'd left the Temple. He knew it was completely destroyed and useless, that it probably would've had to be amputated eventually, but he'd still _had _it. What had happened to him after he'd passed out?

Hesitantly, he tried to move the stump, a part of his mind still convinced he could feel his fingers. His entire body was still sore, but the pain he'd felt after leaving the Temple had mostly subsided, and he found that he was able to move his stump ('his stump'. That would take some getting used to) with little trouble or pain.

He still was having a hard time accepting that his arm was just gone, so he tried to focus on something else, looking around the bright room he'd woken up in. Judging from the beeping machines, the uncomfortable bed, the bright lights, and the smell, he was in a hospital.

Great. He wasn't exactly fond of hospitals. Desmond sighed, forcing himself to sit up as he heard somebody knock on the door, opening it without waiting for confirmation that he was awake. The nurse that entered the room seemed surprised to see him conscious, but she still gave him a small, reassuring smile. "You're finally awake, that's good. How do you feel?"

Desmond gave her a weak smile. "Like I got hit with 1.2 gigawatts at eighty-eight miles per hour."

The nurse just laughed at that, shaking her head as she moved to make a note on her clipboard. "Well, it's good to see you awake. You were brought in about four days ago by two men who found you passed out by the side of the road. How much do you remember before that?"

It was like he was sixteen years old again, running away and making up new life stories on the fly. He'd learned long ago that the most convincing lies had a grain of truth to them, so he hoped that he sounded convincing as he frowned as if in thought, shaking his head at her. "Not much…there was an earthquake, I think, and I got trapped in a cave…"

The nurses eyes widened in surprise. "Earthquake? That was at least two weeks ago! No wonder you were in such bad shape when they brought you in…"

He just nodded, making sure to sound apologetic as he continued. "I'm sorry I don't remember more…"

"It's okay. To be honest, it's a miracle you're alive at all. You were suffering from severe dehydration and malnourishment when you were brought in. You also appear to have suffered from a major electrical shock, though most of the damage from that was concentrated to your right arm. There wasn't much we could to do save it, I'm afraid, the nerves were completely destroyed." The nurse stopped to look down at her clipboard, making a few more notes.

Desmond nodded again, mentally thanking Clay once more, well aware of how much worse it could have been. The nurse looked up and gave him another reassuring smile.

"I know you've been through a lot, but I just need to ask you a few more questions. You had no identification on you when you were brought in, so we've been treating you as a John Doe. I needed to ask you some questions about your identity, see what you remember…it's all standard procedure."

Desmond gave the nurse a smile and nodded, lying smoothly as he broke out one of his many false identities from his years on the road (Trevor Owens, from Pennsylvania, age twenty-five). The nurse seemed to buy his story, and said he would be released in a few days when they were sure his condition was more stable, but Desmond was only half listening to her.

He knew where he needed to go, and the sooner he could get home, the better.

* * *

They let him out of the hospital about two days after he woke up, and it took him another week to finally get back home. He was surprised that the Farm hadn't changed a great deal in the years since he'd run away, not to mention how easy it was for him to slip past security and get inside. The only trouble he'd had came from a few guard dogs, but he remembered how his father had trained them. Two sharp whistled and they'd backed off.

Getting in had been the easy part. Figuring out what to say to his father…that was more difficult. He'd been standing on the front steps of his childhood home for ten minutes, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do when he saw his father again.

Despite the fact that he and his father had reconciled some of their differences before the end, Desmond couldn't help but wonder how much of that had to do with the fact that the world was going to end. They'd only really talked about their problems a few times, and while things had gotten better, they'd only really scratched the surface.

What do you say to your father when you come back from the dead, anyway?

Desmond sighed, unconsciously clenching his fists (fist. Still getting used to that). There was, of course, always a chance his father didn't believe he was who he said he was and just killed him on sight, calling him a poorly planned Templar trick. Honestly, he couldn't blame him. He didn't exactly look like the Desmond that had told his father to run as he went to meet his end.

"Well…no turning back now…"

Taking a deep breath, Desmond closed his eyes and knocked on the door, ready to face the worst.

He wasn't ready to face the kid that opened the door a few minutes later. Out of all the things he was expecting…this wasn't it.

The boy who opened the door looked a great deal like his mom (and oh, god, what was he going to say to her when he saw her again?), with softer facial features and light grey eyes. He remembered that his mom was from a big family, relatively close knit, and one of her older brothers had a baby not too long before he'd run away. Maybe she was babysitting.

Huh. He'd never actually met one of his cousins before.

Desmond stared at the boy, who stared right back up at him, for what felt like forever, before the kid finally spoke up. "Can I help you?"

Right. He was here to see his father, not his weirdly familiar looking cousin. "Bill home?"

"No, he's out right now with Shaun."

Desmond let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, smiling. His dad wasn't home. He had some time to think about what to say to him. He suddenly felt very tired, shaking his head and walking past the kid who'd opened the door, ignoring his protests. "Great, not home. I need to sit down."

Without waiting for a response from the kid, he flopped down onto the old living room couch (still as squishy as it was nine years ago), falling asleep.

* * *

Duncan stared at the strange man who'd just passed out on the family couch, one question on his mind: Who was this guy?

Technically, he shouldn't have even opened the door when he heard somebody knocking. One of his dad's new house rules was that, while he was gone, nobody came in unless they'd been cleared by William beforehand. So far, that included Shaun, Rebecca, and Harlan, who'd gotten back from Vienna last week.

The list of approved guests did NOT included weird looking one armed guys with old, tired eyes. How old was this guy, anyway? He looked like he was in his mid-twenties or something, but his eyes…his eyes were tired, and looked even older than Dad's.

…actually, Duncan thought to himself as he stared at the man sleeping on the couch, this guy looked a lot like Dad. He knew that Mom had a whole bunch of brothers, maybe his dad had one that he'd never mentioned before. His dad was the master of keeping secrets (according to Shaun anyway,).

Well, until either his dad came home or the weird guy woke up, there was no way for Duncan to know for sure. There wasn't much he could do now.

Duncan just sighed, shaking his head as he headed upstairs to grab his homework. He might as well do it downstairs, so he could keep an eye on the weird guy until he woke up.

* * *

It was several hours before Desmond woke up, feeling well rested mentally, if not a bit uncomfortable physically (that couch had never been too comfortable). He yawned loudly, stretching out on the cough before sitting up. It was strange, being back home after all these years. The place hadn't changed much, and it was as if Desmond never left. He blinked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and smiling to himself. In a weird way, it was good to be home. Maybe he'd get to see his mom again, like his father had promised.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a small cough, and Desmond realized that the kid from earlier was still there, watching him. He gave the kid a smile as he stood up, stretching out again. "So, anything to eat in this place?"

The kid looked surprised, like that was the last thing he was expecting to hear out of Desmond, and he shook his head. "We've just got leftovers at the moment. I was gonna go and heat up some soup in a little bit…"

Desmond just snorted, shaking his head as he headed into the kitchen, the kid following behind him. "Balls to that. Let's get some real food in here. Does Bill still keep those frozen chickens in the freezer?"

"Uh…yeah, he does."

"Damn right!"

Oh, crap. Probably shouldn't swear in front of the kid. He couldn't be older than eight, maybe nine. Ten at the most. And from the look he was shooting Desmond, he knew that Desmond has slipped up. He just shrugged and smiled sheepishly at the kid (he should probably get his name. Can't just keep calling his cousin 'the kid'…) "Heh. Whoops, sorry about that, little man. What's your name, anyway?"

"I'm Duncan."

"Nice to meet'cha, Duncan. So! How 'bout some chicken?"

The kid (Duncan, he mentally reminded himself), just shrugged and nodded, pushing back Desmond into the kitchen to sit at the table. "Sure, chicken sounds fine. The soup is probably a little too old by this point to be good, anyway."

"Any beer in here?"

"No."

Desmond mentally swore. Damn. There goes his plan to show off his amazing culinary prowess to his little cousin and make drunk chicken. "Da—well, that sucks. Ah well, I guess the chicken doesn't need to be drunk to be good."

Duncan just stared at him like he'd grown another head. "The chicken's dead, it can't be drunk."

Desmond looked at the kid, smiling and shaking his head. "Kid, you need to lighten up." Seriously, he couldn't be more than ten years old, he had no right to look this sullen and serious. "Now, are you just gonna sit there and stare, or are you gonna come on up and help me cook this bird?"

Duncan didn't say anything for a minute, like he was considering the offer, before he nodded, pushing away from the kitchen table. Desmond grinned. He was gonna get this kid to smile by the end of the evening, he knew it. "That's what I thought. Now, we're gonna need a few things before we get started. Go grab me some flour and breadcrumbs and a big bowl."

"I don't think we have any breadcrumbs…"

"Well, then grab some Corn Flakes. We'll just improvise."

* * *

It had been a long time since Duncan had been a helper in the kitchen. Actually, that wasn't really true. He'd been helping his dad with the food ever since Mom left, but that…that wasn't fun. He loved his dad, but he made cooking seem like work. Mom had always made it fun.

This guy…it was like cooking with Mom again. He made cooking fun again.

He still didn't know exactly who the weird guy was. There was a part of Duncan that just wanted to come out and ask him, but he had a funny feeling this guy wouldn't give him a straight answer. He looked so much like Dad, though, that he was probably Duncan's uncle or something like that.

Right now, they were both sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for the chicken to finish cooling. It smelled delicious…a lot better than reheated tomato soup, that was for sure. Neither Duncan or the weird guy (he knew he really shouldn't call him weird, but…well, he was weird) were saying anything, but it wasn't an awkward silence. It was comfortable, and nice, and Duncan didn't feel like he needed to say anything.

The weird guy gave him a smile as he got up to check on the cooling bird, and Duncan just watched him, still very curious about who he was. Dad should be home soon, though. Maybe he'd get some answers then.

"Ah ha! I think it's cool enough to serve now. Go grab some plates for me, little man!"

Duncan smiled and shook his head as he got up to go grab plates. "Don't call me little man, I'm not little!"

The weird guy just laughed, ignoring the pouting look that Duncan gave him as he moved to hand him the plates.

They ended up eating in relative silence, with the weird guy asking him questions every so often. They were the standard older relative questions (what do you do for fun, what're you classes in school like, are you in training, etc), and Duncan was glad to talk about his training with somebody other than his father.

It was just when they were both really getting into dinner when they heard the door open.

"Duncan?"

Duncan grinned. His dad was home. He shot up from the chair, rushing over to the door to greet his dad. "Welcome home, sir!"

His father gave him a tired smile. He always looked so tired lately…"Duncan, I've told you that you don't have to call me sir…"

"I know, I just want to. Hey, Dad, how come you didn't tell me that I had an uncle that knows how to cook?"

His dad just looked at him, his expression a strange mixture of concern and confusion. "Duncan, I don't have a brother…"

He didn't have a brother? So…this weird guy _wasn't_ Duncan's uncle? So, then…who was he?

They both looked up as they heard footsteps come from the kitchen, the weird guy giving them both a tired smile, waving weakly at Duncan's dad. "…hi, Dad."

His father just stared at the other man, stunned. "…Desmond…?"

…wait.

_This_ was Desmond? This was his screw-up of an older brother, who was supposed to be a dead martyr who saved the world?

What was going on here?

* * *

For a minute, the room was silent. Desmond just stared at his father, not sure what to say.

It was like time had stopped, just for a second, and suddenly everything was moving fast once more, his father grabbing Duncan and pushing him behind him, pulling out his gun and pointing it at Desmond's head. Desmond's eyes widened in surprise (though, really, he should've expected this sort of reaction), and he put his hand in the air, biting his lip nervously.

It was Duncan who ultimately spoke first, his voice slightly muffled from his spot behind William. Despite that, the accusatory tone in his voice was very clear. "I thought you said Desmond was dead."

William nodded, not looking away from Desmond, gun still pointed at his temple. "I did, and he is."

Desmond just snorted and rolled his eyes. "The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated."

William just stared at him for a moment, before slowly lowering the gun, walking till he was right in front of Desmond, staring him in the face, before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. "…Don't you misquote Twain at me, you smartass."

Desmond laughed weakly, hugging his father back as best as he could with his one arm. "Well forgive me for not remembering exactly what he said, it's not like I had a normal education, remember?"

"What did I tell you about getting smart with me? And what the hell happened to your arm?"

"Well, it sort of burned off."

William finally pulled away from Desmond, looking him over like he was making sure he was real, before he sighed, shaking his head, lips twitching as he tried not to smile at the absurdity that was his son. "What do you mean it _burned off_?"

"Well, see, when you touch evil space wizard death balls, sometimes bad things tend to happen. In my case, my arm got fried."

"How are you even alive?"

"Good question. You've got Clay to thank for that."

Before William could ask him exactly what Clay had done to save Desmond's life, he was interrupted by a loud coughing noise. Oh, crap. Desmond had almost forgotten that Duncan was there. He gave the kid a weak smile and a wave.

Duncan didn't smile back. In fact, since William got back, the kid had…well, it was like he'd stiffened up, like he was viewing Desmond as a completely different person.

He'd have to ask his father about that later. Now, though…"Hey, that reminds me. You know you don't have any beer in the house, right?"

His father stared at him like he'd grown another head (huh. Duncan had the same expression earlier. Weird.). "You come back from the dead and your first question is 'where's the beer'? Really, Desmond? And why would I keep beer around where my nine-year old could get at it?"

…Wait. What…what had his dad just said?

_HIS _nine-year old?

"…did you just say he was YOUR nine-year old? The squirt belongs to YOU? What'd you do, buy him from somebody on the side of the road or something?" He laughed, nervous, because there's no way what his father just said could be true. There was no way that Duncan was his…his…no. That was impossible.

William ignored Duncan' squawk of protest at being called a 'squirt', sighing as he gently pushed the kid out from behind him. "Desmond…this is Duncan. Your brother."

…brother? He…he had a brother?

Duncan didn't bother to look at him, choosing instead to stare sullenly at the ground, but he didn't care. He just looked at the kid, stunned. That explained why he looked so much like Mom, but with lighter eyes. That explained why this kid was here in the first place. He had a brother. He…he was a big brother.

Holy shit.

"I don't like you."

He was brought out of his thoughts by Duncan, who was now staring at him with a disapproving face that mirrored the one he'd seen on his father too many times. Up until William got home, they'd been getting along just fine…what the hell had happened? "Well, you seemed to like making chicken with me. We were getting along just fine, I thought we were buds!"

"That was before I found out you were Desmond."

And with that, Duncan pushed past him into the kitchen, grabbing his plate of chicken before going upstairs, slamming his door behind him.

William and Desmond were left alone in the living room now, the atmosphere tense and awkward. Why the hell had his brother (Holy SHIT he had a little brother he still couldn't get over that) reacted like that? He'd just met the kid!

What the hell had his dad been telling Duncan about him?

Desmond gave his father a look. "…Well. I see he's got your shining personality…"

"Desmond, don't. What are you even doing here?"

He sighed. He had too many questions. Why had his father never told him about Duncan? Why did the kid suddenly dislike him so much? Where was Mom?

His father had some explaining to do.

"Right now? Well, let's see. I died and came back to life; I think I'm doing whatever I want at the moment. And right now, I want a drink and some answers."


	3. Cats in the Cradle

"_Right now? Well, let's see. I died and came back to life, I think I'm doing whatever I want at the moment. And right now, I want a drink and some answers."_

Desmond wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of leaving his newfound younger brother home alone while he and his father went to get drinks (and possibly get drunk). He wasn't exactly comforted by his father telling him that Duncan was used to staying home alone, either.

_Still leaving your kids by themselves. Some things never change._

They hadn't talked during the drive into town, instead choosing to sit in silence, the tense atmosphere growing more and more uncomfortable until Desmond wanted to scream all the questions that were buzzing in his head.

He had a brother. A little brother, who hated him for some reason, and who, upon discovering who he was, decided he wanted nothing to do with him. What the hell had Bill been saying about him all these years? And why was he home alone in the first place? Why wasn't Mom with him? He knew his father had said they were temporarily separated to throw off the Templars hunting them, but he assumed she'd be home with her son…

God, what else wasn't his father telling him?

He'd thought, after Rome, after reconciling with his father, that things between them would be different. Better, somehow. But they weren't. They hadn't changed at all.

When they finally got to the bar (the drive was only 20 minutes, but it felt so much longer), Desmond could not order a drink fast enough. He couldn't be completely sober to deal with this.

Any other time, he'd be happy to be in a bar. He loved watching how other bartenders worked, mentally comparing techniques, how they mixed drinks, trying to figure out how he measured up. There was still a part of him that wanted to go back to that life, someday…but there was still Juno to deal with, and the Templars, and right now, his father.

They managed to get a booth, and for a few minutes, neither of them said anything, Desmond opting to nurse his drink than start the conversation. But it became clear that William was unwilling—or unable—to start talking about the things he hadn't told Desmond. So, Desmond sighed, put his beer aside (for now), and took the plunge. "So…Duncan, huh. I gotta admit, out of all the things I was expecting to find when I got back, a little brother wasn't one of them."

William didn't look at him as he nodded. "He's nine now. He'll be turning ten in about eight months."

Desmond went quiet, thinking about that for a minute. He'd ran away at sixteen, in 2003…Duncan was nine…he did he math in his head. Duncan was born sometime in late 2003, after he'd run away…

Oh. _Oh._

He shot his father a dirty look. "Wow. _Wow, _Dad. I knew you could be a real asshole, but this? This is something else."

William raised an eyebrow. "Explain how having another son makes me an asshole?"

"I seem to remember Mom not wanting anymore kids, and Duncan just _happens _to be nine? The same number of years its been since I ran away? Heh. Happy to be rid of me, I guess."

Duncan wasn't just his little brother. Oh, no, that would've been too nice, too _normal_. No, Duncan was the replacement child, the Plan B that was hastily made after Desmond turned out to be a failure in his father's eyes, after he ran away. Christ, this was rich.

He wanted to laugh, to scream, to cry, to just _punch _his father straight in the jaw. How could he have been so naïve as to think that maybe things could be different between them, when William went and did things like this?

William raised an eyebrow, staring at Desmond before sighing, sounding frustrated. "Always assuming the worst of me, aren't you, Desmond. Yes, your mother didn't want to have any other children after you. Duncan was technically an accident, and she was about a month pregnant with him when you ran away. Your leaving hurt her, very badly. She chose to keep Duncan because of that, not because I needed a 'replacement son'."

"Oh, so now this is about me? You're the one who had another kid and didn't fucking tell me about him!"

"You were gone for ten years, I would think you didn't care."

"Oh, go to hell. I cared enough to risk my life to save all of your ungrateful asses, what makes you think I wouldn't care to know that I had a _fucking_ brother?" He was trying very hard not to scream, because making a scene was the last thing they needed. He took a few deep breathes, moving to have a sip of his beer. He needed to calm down, keep a low profile…he could rip into his father later, in private, if necessary.

His father looked at him, eyes cold. "Considering how you abandoned this family and broke your mother's heart? Yes, I do think you wouldn't care about having a younger brother. You wouldn't have cared if he'd been born before you ran away, I'm sure."

Oh. So that was what this was about.

Desmond closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Christ, one beer wasn't going to be enough to get him through this. "I thought we were past this, Dad. Christ, I thought we weren't going to do this anymore…"

William sighed, and Desmond noticed for the first time how _old_ his father really looked. He knew that his dad always claimed to be under a great deal of stress, but he'd always looked like he had it all under control. It was really the first time he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Bill just moved to have some more beer. "I thought we were too. But I guess that it'll take more than the end of the world to fix our relationship."

"I guess so…"

They fell back into an uncomfortable silence, neither sure what to say next now that their continuing issues were out in the open. His father was right, though: The end of the world hadn't fixed their problems, and it was going to take more than rescues and hugs to make them okay. They'd have to work on it.

He just wasn't sure if his father was going to be able to meet him halfway.

"…Dad, look… for what it's worth, I am sorry. Not for running away, but for how I left things. I never meant to hurt Mom…speaking of which, where is she? She still out on a mission or something?"

His father shook his head. "She's gone, Desmond."

Desmond frowned. Gone? What did he mean, _gone_? His father had said she was off on a mission, she wasn't…she couldn't…

His father wouldn't lie about his mother being alive…would he?

Bill must've realized that Desmond was starting to assume the worst, and he shook his head. "She's not dead, Desmond. She left. She…when we thought you were dead, she didn't take the news well…we fought, and she left."

"…oh. Dad, I…"

"No, it's fine. I've tried to get in touch with her, but I haven't had any luck yet. When Beth doesn't want to be found, well…" William sighed again, rubbing his eyes. "She'll make contact eventually, if only for Duncan's sake."

Desmond nodded, feeling rather numb. His mother was alive, but she wasn't around, and he didn't know when he'd see her again…she still thought that he was dead, she might never know he was alive, and he just wanted to see her, after 10 years…

He was surprised that his mom didn't take Duncan with her when she left. She may not have always been the greatest mom in the world (standing up to Bill hadn't been one of her strong points, but clearly that had changed), but she had genuinely loved Desmond…she must have loved Duncan too.

Whatever she and Bill had fought about, it must've been really awful, to make her just up and leave without taking her son with her.

Maybe that had something to do with why Duncan seemed to dislike him so much. But he had a feeling his father wouldn't give him a straight answer. If he wanted to know why Duncan had turned on him so quickly, he'd have to go straight to the source.

But it was getting late, and Desmond didn't think he could handle any more Miles family drama tonight.

Both men settled into silence once more, drinking their beers, lost in thought. It was William who broke the silence this time, finishing off his beer and looking up at Desmond. "Shaun and Rebecca have set up their equipment on the Farm, and we've been working on monitoring Juno from there."

Oh, right. Juno. The world was still at risk from a crazy vengeful space wizard with a deep seeded hatred in all things human. Between not dying, the unexpected little brother, and the continuing issues with his father, Desmond had almost forgotten that she was still a problem. He groaned, shaking his head and moving to stand up. "Dad, can…can we not talk about Juno tonight? It's…well, it's been a long couple of weeks."

Bill nodded, moving to get out of the booth. "We can worry about her tomorrow. I thought you just might like to know that Shaun and Rebecca are staying nearby, if you want to go see them."

"...yeah, I think I'd like that."

* * *

Shaun and Rebecca were set up in one of the houses next door to William's, according to his father, and they'd been there since Bill got back to the Farm. They'd mostly been doing what they'd done back in the Temple, with Shaun providing intel and support for teams in the field while Rebecca monitored Templar activity through the Internet, hacking away as she did so, while subtly trying not to have enough tension in the room to actually make Desmond uncomfortable.

His father didn't mention their extra duties keeping an eye on Juno's movements, and Desmond was grateful for that. He wasn't up to dealing with space wizards tonight.

The drive back to the Farm was much like the one to the bar: silent and uncomfortable. At least now, though, there were no more secrets between Desmond and William. At least, none that Desmond was aware of, anyway. He wouldn't put it past his father to have more skeletons in his closet that would come back to haunt them all, somehow.

He shook his head, trying to clear the bad thoughts out. He had to try to think better of his father if they ever wanted to work to mend the rifts in their relationship. His father glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow at Desmond. "You okay there, son?"

"Yeah, fine…just thinking, that's all. Hey, are Shaun and Becca going to even be awake by the time we get back? I mean, it's sort of late…"

"They'll be up. Or Rebecca will be, at least."

Desmond nodded quietly as they drove up to a house not too far from his childhood home, noting that the lights were still on. Whoever was inside was definitely awake. "Is this the place?"

"This is the place. We have a setup in the back of our house as well, but they prefer to work here…well, Shaun prefers working here, at least."

Desmond had a strange feeling that Shaun had probably run afoul of Duncan somehow. The kid seemed to be the type to hold grudges, and probably found some way to make Shaun miserable whenever he was by the house. At least he had that in common with his brother, anyway.

As they got out of the car and headed up to the house, Desmond suddenly felt very nervous. He hadn't had a chance to say a proper goodbye to Shaun or Rebecca before the end…he had no idea how they'd react to seeing him alive and relatively well. If his father's own reaction was anything to go by, though, it would probably go poorly.

He mentally braced himself for the worst as his father knocked on the door.

It was Rebecca who opened the door, and the first thing Desmond noticed was how tired she looked. He knew that, right before the end, they'd all been under stress, but it looked like she hadn't slept in ages. She didn't notice him at first, focusing on William, raising an eyebrow and giving him a tired smile. "Hey, Bill. You're here late…what's up?"

His father nodded over his shoulder to Desmond, who gave her a sheepish smile, unsure of what to say. Rebecca's eyes widened as she stared at him in shock before gasping. "Oh my God…"

He didn't have any warning when she let out a strangled cry of happiness, throwing herself at Desmond and pulling him into a tight hug, practically knocking him over as she did so. He laughed slightly, hugging her back as best as he could before she pulled away as quickly as she'd embraced him, punching him in the arm.

"Oww! Hey, what was that for?"

"That was for scaring the shit out of us, you idiot! We all thought you were dead!"

"I thought I was too!"

"How did you survive?"

"Clay decided to hitch a ride with me out of the Animus, I guess…he did something at the last second. Saved my life."

Rebecca blinked, laughing wetly and moving to rub her eyes. "Good old Clay…holy shit, I can't believe you're alive! Get in here, Shaun is going to throw a fit when he sees you!" Without any warning, Rebecca grabbed him by the arm, practically yanking him into the house, his father chuckling as he followed them inside.

Well, this was going better than he'd expected. Now all he had to do was hope that Shaun didn't murder him on sight.

Rebecca and Shaun's equipment was set up in their living room, and Desmond was reminded of their work stations in Monterrigioni, how they somehow managed to be both contained and sprawling, organized and a complete mess. Shaun wasn't at his station, and given that all his equipment appeared to be turned off, Desmond had to assume he'd gone to bed for the evening. Which was why he couldn't help but wince, feeling guilty that Shaun was probably going to get woken up because of him. Rebecca didn't seem to share his concerns, as she went over to the stairs, shouting for Shaun to 'get his ass downstairs, Bill was here'.

Desmond could hear Shaun's grumbling before the man came downstairs, looking like he'd just woken up (which was probably true), and he suddenly felt very nervous. He and Shaun had become rather close in the months leading up to the end of the world, and, just like it had been with his father, he wasn't sure what to say. At least when it came to talking to Rebecca, it had been easy…

Shaun didn't notice Desmond at first, choosing instead to grumble at William. "For God's sake, Bill, do you have any idea what time it is? Some people are trying to sleep…I know it's a foreign concept to you but still, whatever it is, can't it wait until morning?"

Bill just shook his head, stepping aside, and Shaun's eyes widened as he looked at Desmond. Desmond just gave him a small smile, waving awkwardly at Shaun for a second. "…hi, Shaun."

Shaun just stared at him for a moment, before a look of anger washed over him as he approached Desmond. "Oh. Oh, you complete and utter _bastard._"

Ah, there it was. The famous Hastings temper. Desmond braced himself to be punched in the arm (or more likely, square in the jaw), and was completely taken by surprise when Shaun pulled him into a bone crushingly tight hug. "You complete prick, don't you _ever_ do anything so stupid like that again! We thought you were dead, you bastard!"

Desmond laughed, hugging Shaun back. "I'll try not to make a habit of it…are you _crying, _Shaun?"

"I am not! You're just filthy and I have dirt in my eye, when was the last time you bathed properly?"

Rebecca just laughed in the background. "You want us to leave you two alone?"

Shaun pulled back, wiping his eyes and shooting Rebecca a look. "Oh, come off it, I bet you cried too when you saw him."

"Nope, I just punched him in the arm."

"…Really."

"Yep!"

Desmond laughed as the two of them fell into conversation, moving to plop down on their couch while his father just stood by the door, chuckling and shaking his head.

Tomorrow, it would be back to business as usual. They'd catch Desmond up on what he'd missed, and they'd put him to work on the hunt for Juno. They'd let him know what, if anything, she'd done so far, what the Templars had been up to…

Tomorrow, he and his father would start to try and fix the many problems they still had between then. Tomorrow, Desmond would try to talk to Duncan again. Try to make the kid smile the way he had before he figured out who Desmond was.

But that was all for tomorrow. Tonight, Desmond was alive, and he was back with his friends and his father. As Rebecca went to go and grab drinks, Desmond thought to himself, it had been so long since they'd celebrated anything…

He should enjoy it while he can. They all should.

Because the real work had yet to begin.


	4. Lonely Hearts

It had been about a month since Desmond's miraculous revival and his triumphant return to the Farm, and all in all, it had been a relatively quiet month. The team from the Temple had taken one night to celebrate Desmond's survival and return, and then it had been back to business as usual. They'd split their time between monitoring Templar activity and trying to figure out what, if anything, Juno was up to.

On both fronts, things had been quiet. Almost too quiet. It was putting everybody on edge, because it was only a matter of time before somebody made a move.

On the Templar front, things seemed to have quieted overall, no doubt in part due to the failure of the Eye Abstergo satellite and the loss of Vidic and a good chunk of Templar agents in Rome. They hadn't lost any teams in a while either, which was an added bonus. It didn't mean the Templars weren't busy, though…they'd just moved on to trying new techniques.

* * *

"_Abstergo Entertainment is a relatively new branch of Abstergo, focusing on multimedia products. Their major product? A console version of the Animus, where they sell their version of history to the public as a game, let them live the history that Abstergo lets them see. It's not their only product, but it's their most ambitious and their biggest seller, and it's our main concern at the moment."_

_Rebecca had pulled up their latest files on Abstergo, as part of their plan to catch Desmond up on what he'd missed while he'd been gone. As it turned out, he'd missed a lot, and he swore as she went through and showed off the console and its variations. "Christ, how are they even marketing this thing to people? Play our games, go nuts, see ghosts everywhere, fun for the kids? Jesus…"_

_Shaun nodded, pulling up a video file. A commercial for Abstergo's Animus OS Glasses. Christ, they were selling them as glasses too? What the hell were the Templars playing at here?_

_Desmond just watched in horror as the commercial unfolded, staring at Shaun as it ended. "Okay, so we know what they're doing. We just don't know the why…how do we stop them?"_

"_Well, we're working on the why and hows at the moment. Rebecca is working to analyze the commercials for subliminal messages, and we've got a team of hackers working to break into their network and uncover future plans the Entertainment branch may have, as well as sabotage the shared network their Animus products run on. What risk the Bleeding Effect is to the public…we're not sure yet."_

_Desmond just nodded, sighing. "What do you need me to do?"_

_Before Shaun could respond, William spoke up, shaking his head. "At the moment? Nothing."_

"_But Dad—"_

"_But nothing. You're in no shape to go out onto the field. Right now, you need to focus on getting back into the shape you were in before your near death experience."_

"_Gee, thanks, Dad. It's not like I didn't die recently or anything. Want me to grow a new arm while I'm at it?"_

"_Don't get smart with me, not about this. Focus on training and getting better. We'll handle the Templars."_

* * *

And get back into shape he had. He hadn't realized how much weight he'd lost during those two week he'd spent unconscious in the Temple…nothing but skin and bones and stringy muscles remained. It wasn't until after he was home that he realized how _wrong _he felt.

So, Desmond had worked to get back into shape. That included eating to gain back all the weight he'd lost, so he'd have something to turn into muscles while he trained. Rebecca had set him up with a specially balanced diet to help him gain back all the vital nutrients he'd lost…which he'd promptly broken when he started eating whatever the hell he wanted again. It wasn't that he didn't _like_ the protein shakes and nutrient bars Rebecca was practically force feeding him…it was just that he'd missed normal food. He tried to do this properly, he really did, but sometimes he'd just give in to the urge to eat a dozen donuts and a whole pizza on his own. Whenever he did that, he could always count on Shaun to crack out the fat jokes, and it almost felt like the way things had been back in Monterrigioni. Almost.

At least Shaun managed to keep his comments to when Desmond was eating bad food, and really, he'd died and come back, he'd earned the right to eat a whole pizza on his own if he wanted to.

When he wasn't working on his diet, Desmond was back in training, getting in shape and learning how to do things with one arm. To say it hadn't been easy was an understatement, and he knew he was a long way away from being the man he was before the end of the world. But he was getting there, slowly but surely.

He'd need to be in tip top fighting shape for when Juno made a move.

* * *

"_I'm telling you, the blackout has to be connected to Juno somehow!"_

"_Rebecca, I don't think blacking out the Super Bowl quite fits with Juno's modus operandi of conquering humanity."_

_Rebecca just scoffed and rolled her eyes at a very unconvinced Shaun. "Seriously, Shaun? This fits perfectly with your theory about her, you should be agreeing with me on this!"_

"_Who's agreeing on what now?"_

_Both Shaun and Rebecca looked up as Desmond walked in, not quite sure what sort of argument he'd just walked in on. But from the smirk that Rebecca gave him, he had a feeling he'd instantly regret getting involved. "Desmond! So glad you're here! I need your opinion on something. You've heard Shaun's theory about Juno, right?"_

"…_er…no, actually, I haven't."_

_Rebecca shot Shaun a look, and the historian just shrugged awkwardly. "I planned on telling him, it just slipped my mind!"_

"_You remember to mock his eating habits but you manage to forget this? Really, Shaun?"_

_Before Shaun could respond to Rebecca with a comment that would surely have the two of them going off on an argument for at least 20 minutes or so, Desmond interrupted. "So, what is this theory of yours, Shaun?"_

_Rebecca still looked rather smug as she moved to sit down, smirking at Shaun, who chose to ignore her as he told Desmond his theory. "Well, Desmond, my theory is that Juno didn't come back quite as she expected to. I think what she was expecting was to come back whole, solid, powerful, ready to enslave humanity with a snap of her fingers. But something went wrong."_

"_And that would be…?"_

"_You, Desmond. You weren't supposed to survive, and I think your death was the final thing she needed to come back with full power. A life for a life, as it were. But, well, that didn't work. You're alive, so she didn't come back at full power, or even in a solid form. She's pure energy right now, unable to conquer and enslave anything. It explains why the only possible signs of activity we've seen from her have been Internet glitches. She's trying to gain enough knowledge to work on rebuilding herself."_

_At this, Rebecca jumped up, enthusiastically joining in. "And this is exactly why I think she's behind the blackout! Think about it! She's got very little knowledge of how modern humans or modern human societies work. She has no idea what the Super Bowl is, she could've thought it was some sort of gladiatorial tournament or something, and that draining the power from it would scare us. She thought wrong, yeah, but it's just the sort of thing she'd do while trying to figure out how we work!"_

_Shaun just scoffed, shaking his head. "The blackout was caused by faulty wiring. No more, no less. The glitches we've associated with possible Juno activity are likely due to her attempts at learning about us. What could she hope to learn or gain by blacking out a major sporting event?"_

_Desmond looked back and forth between the two, shrugging and nodding at Rebecca, who grinned triumphantly._

"_I dunno, Shaun, I think Rebecca might have a point. It does sound like the sort of thing she'd do, especially if she's at a low power state like you think she is…"_

_Shaun just rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer, ignoring Rebecca as she high-fived Desmond behind his back._

* * *

So, basically, not a great deal had happened in the past month. For Desmond, that was almost normal in a way. His life as a bartender had gotten him used to unexciting routines where nothing particularly special happened, and he'd liked that. He'd get up, go for a run, take a shower, go about his day, then go to work at night. Rinse and repeat. It hadn't been exciting or world changing, but it had been a nice life.

Then, of course, his life had changed and he'd ended up spending a good chunk of late 2012 in the Animus, lying down and running through the lives of ancestor after ancestor after ancestor, searching and waiting for something to happen in the real world. He'd learned to get used to life moving slowly before suddenly picking up, and if his past experiences were anything to go off of, the slow period was preferable to the pick-up (which usually had something awful or catastrophic happen).

But being used to waiting didn't mean waiting was easy. Whenever Desmond wasn't in training, he was trying to spend time with Duncan. He still wasn't exactly sure why Duncan disliked him so much, but he was determined to make that kid smile like he had when they first met, before Duncan realized who Desmond was. When he wasn't trying (and failing) to coax Duncan to warm up to him or at the very least give him a chance, he was throwing himself back into his training, pushing himself harder and running farther than ever before. And whenever he wasn't doing either of those things, he was loafing around and doing what he was used to doing in his down time: bothering Shaun and Rebecca.

He was on his way over to Shaun and Rebecca's place, to partake in his favorite pastime of bugging them both and loafing around on their couch, watching them work (and distracting them both from their respective jobs). The sky was thick with dark grey clouds, and Desmond was pretty sure it was going to rain later. There was a slight twinge of pain in his stump, but he ignored it as he moved to knock on Shaun and Becca's door, whistling to himself. He smiled at Shaun when he finally answered the door, and didn't seem to notice the surprised look on Shaun's face at seeing him.

"Hey, Shaun!"

Shaun just blinked at him for a second, before smiling awkwardly at him. "Desmond! Not that it isn't lovely to see you, but…well, do you remember what day it is today?"

"Yeah. It's Thursday, right?"

Shaun just stared at him, shaking his head and sighing. "_Techically_ yes. But it's also Valentine's Day, and Rebecca and I have plans."

Desmond blinked, surprised. He'd completely forgotten about Valentine's Day. It wasn't like he'd had plans for the holiday or anything, so it must've just slipped his mind. Though, now that Shaun had mentioned it…

…huh. Valentine's Day.

Shaun had plans with Rebecca, though? Desmond couldn't help but smile smugly at the British historian, who bristled at Desmond's grin. "Oh, and what are you smiling about, hmm?"

"Oh, nothing…Becca finally gonna make a man out of you tonight, Shaun?"

Shaun went pink at that (and oh, his cheeks clashed brilliantly with his hair at that), snapping slightly at Desmond. "Oh, ha ha, very funny there, stumpy. At least I'll be getting some tonight, unlike some people."

And oh, that hurt. He wasn't even fully sure of _why _it hurt so much. It was just Shaun overreacting to a joke, same as usual. He'd made comments like that in the past, and Desmond had always just laughed and threw a line right back at him. So why did he suddenly feel so empty and alone?

"_Just try and have a little faith. Have faith."_

…oh.

"Desmond? You okay there, mate? You spaced out on me for a second."

Desmond blinked, realizing that Shuan was staring at him. How long had he just been standing there quiet? He shrugged, giving Shaun a weak smile (it felt so _forced_, he wasn't even sure why…). "Yeah, fine. Like you said, I just spaced out for a sec. You kids have fun tonight, okay? Remember to use protection!"

Any concern that Shaun may have been showing at that evaporated, and he just shot Desmond an annoyed look as Desmond started to head off. "Hey, you shut up!"

Desmond just laughed, waving as he headed off, ignoring the stings of pain in his stump and the ache in his heart. He waited until he was a good distance away from Shaun and Becca's place, until he was sure nobody would be following or watching him.

Then, he started to run.

He ran and ran, ignoring the pains in his stump or the ache in his legs as he went faster and farther. He tried not to think about what day it was, or how alone he suddenly felt. He tried not to think about the blood on his hands, the loss of control as the hidden blade plunged into her stomach. The look of confusion and hurt in her eyes as they both collapsed.

Traitor or not, she hadn't deserved what had happened to her. What he'd done to her.

He'd told his father, back in the Temple, that he'd known that Lucy was a traitor when…when he'd killed her. That Juno had shown him the truth and he'd had some control over his actions.

He'd lied.

The truth was he hadn't had any control over his actions. Juno had taken over, and no matter how hard he'd fought her control, she'd won out, and Lucy had paid the price. It wasn't until he was in a coma, on Animus Island, that he learned the truth about her allegiances. And by that point, it hadn't really mattered. She was dead. He'd killed her. Whether she was a Templar or not…none of that mattered, because she was gone and it was because of him.

And even if he'd known…he'd liked Lucy. She'd been nice to him, she'd still helped him escape Abstergo. She cared about him…and he'd cared about her. Even if he'd known that she'd switched sides, he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to hurt her. He'd just want to know _why_.

But none of that was important now. Lucy was dead by his hand, and he was left alive and alone to live with the guilt and the what-ifs.

So he ran. He ran to try and forget, to ignore the empty feeling in his heart and the questions buzzing in his head (What if she was alive? What would he say to her? Would they be together today? Would she still work for the Templars, would she switch back?) .

By the time his head was finally clear and he'd stopped, it had gotten dark, the thick clouds from earlier making it difficult for him to tell what time it was, or how long he'd been running. Desmond took a few deep breaths, trying to get his bearings. Somehow, he'd managed to lose track of where he was running, and he'd ended on the outskirts of the Farm.

"…fuck, how did I get out here…"

Shaking his head, ignoring the distant rumbles of thunder in the sky, Desmond took another deep breath before heading back. It was getting late, and he didn't want to be caught out there when it started raining.

"_I'm not sure it will ever end, Desmond…I can't do this forever."_

At least, for her, it was over. Maybe she was at peace, somewhere, finally out of this war. And maybe, if he was lucky, he'd see her again someday.

But not tonight. Tonight, he was going home alone.

* * *

Duncan had woken up that morning to an empty house and a grey sky. His father was off on a mission, coordinating some teams somewhere, and would be back in a few days, so for now, it was just him and Desmond in the house. And Desmond appeared to be out.

Good. Duncan knew exactly what day it was, and was in no mood to deal with his brother and his attempts at conversation or pleasantries.

He'd headed downstairs and made himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, sitting alone in the kitchen. It was…weird, without his mom here. They'd had a tradition for Valentine's Day. Every Valentine's Day, she would get up and make him heart shaped pancakes with strawberries, and he'd come down for breakfast and they'd eat together before she went to work and he went to training. It was just the two of them, doing something special together. He'd always loved it.

There were no pancakes this year. No special moments alone with Mom. And it was because of Desmond.

He knew, logically, that it wasn't Desmond's fault. Not really. But he needed somebody to blame, to be angry at, and Desmond fit the bill perfectly. He'd died and Mom had left because of it, and then he'd come back the savior of mankind, a pinnacle of perfection he could never hope to live up to.

He'd seen the way his brother was at training. He was a perfectionist, able to do difficult exercises with easy (one handed, at that!) The training group was doing a two mile run? Desmond was off doing six miles. They were doing twenty pushups? Desmond had done over fifty with one arm, and was still going. Obstacle course? Blade and gun practice? Desmond met and surpassed all expectations with no effort.

It drove Duncan nuts.

His father had always called Desmond lazy, said he was wasting his life doing nothing, but a lazy person couldn't just do so well in training so easily. Duncan gave _everything _he had during his sessions, but no matter how hard he tried, Desmond was better, and always would be.

He just couldn't stand it.

Grumbling to himself as he finished his breakfast, Duncan moved to put his bowl in the sink and get ready to go to his classes and his own training sessions. He could hear the sound of thunder in the distance (and he hoped it didn't start raining during class, that was the last thing he needed), and he ignored the nervous feeling in his gut as he got his boots and coat on and headed out.

Mom might have loved Desmond more, but at least there was still one place where Duncan could be special and important. He may not be able to beat Desmond, but at least he could be the top of his class. He put the effort in, after all. He wasn't lazy or a good for nothing who wasted his life.

As he closed the door behind him and headed out that morning, he just wished that his mom was still there to see him, to make him feel like he was special. To get rid of the anger and the feeling of loneliness that had been following him since she'd left.

* * *

When Duncan got back, tired from a long day of classes and training, the first thing he'd noticed was that Desmond still wasn't home. Good. That meant he could set up in the living room and work on his homework undisturbed, at least for a little bit.

Ever since he returned from the dead, Desmond had gotten into the habit of trying to bond with him. It was little things, like asking him about his day (which were always the same) or his friends (which he didn't have), or things like that. But he was always so enthusiastic, so _happy_, even when Duncan shot him down…he didn't understand why Desmond wouldn't get the hint. He didn't want anything to do with him.

It made it very hard to get work done, to say the least.

The second thing he noticed upon getting home was how empty the house felt. He knew his mom wasn't going to be there…but even though it had been over a month, he still expected to see her when he got home, or when he got up in the morning. And then, when she wasn't, and he remembered that she probably wasn't coming back…

Duncan was used to being in an empty house, but it didn't mean that he liked being alone.

So he threw himself into his homework, trying to distract his mind from how quiet the house was, or how alone he felt. It worked for a little while, at least until Desmond got home.

Desmond didn't seem to notice him on the couch as he headed into the kitchen, grabbing four slices of bread (really? Just bread? Desmond was weird) before heading upstairs without saying a word.

Huh. Maybe Desmond had finally gotten the hint and was finally going to start leaving him alone.

As soon as Duncan heard the shower go on upstairs, he went back to his work, knowing that he had a little more time before dinner came and he'd be forced to talk to his older brother.

* * *

By the time that Desmond was done with his shower, Duncan had finished his homework and was just sitting on the couch, doing nothing in particular. Desmond seemed to finally realize that he was there, as he moved to sit down on the couch next to him, giving him a small smile. "Hey. Dad home?"

Duncan shook his head. At least when it came to talking about Dad, he could try to be civil and polite to his brother. "No. He's off on a mission coordinating some teams. I think he'll be back in a few days, but I'm not sure."

Desmond just scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. Left without saying a word, typical Bill Miles."

Duncan stared at Desmond for a second, the anger he felt towards his brother coming to a boiling point. He _hated _how Desmond talked about their father, how he just casually disrespected him and always seemed to think the worst of him. His dad had a reason for doing the things he did, why couldn't Desmond just accept that and move on?

He stood up suddenly, glaring at Desmond. He'd taken his mom away, he didn't seem to respect or listen to their dad, no matter what, Duncan could never be better than him. He couldn't take it anymore.

"He did say a word before leaving! He said it to me, while you were off who knows where doing who knows what!"

"Woah, it's okay, no need to yell, lil man—"

"I'm not little! Why are you even here, anyway? Why can't you just go away!"

He stormed out of the room before Desmond had a chance to respond, racing up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him before throwing himself onto his bed, hugging his pillow close to his chest.

If Desmond went away, maybe things would go back to the way they used to be…maybe his mom would come home, and they could be a family again, and he wouldn't feel so angry and upset all the time anymore.

He knew it wasn't fair to hate Desmond the way he did…but he needed to hate somebody. If he didn't have somebody to blame for all of this, he didn't know what he'd do.

Duncan just hugged his pillow tighter, trying to fight back the angry tears that threatened to fall.

* * *

Desmond sighed, wincing slightly at the sound of Duncan slamming his door behind him. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd done to set the kid off this time, but he'd never actually run off like that before. Usually, Duncan would just pull out an insult or ignore him completely. Maybe leave the room, but never storm out of there like that…

Something had set him off. Desmond wasn't sure what, and for all he knew, it could've been him (hell, it probably was him). But Duncan was clearly upset, and Desmond was his big brother. It didn't matter whether Duncan hated him or not…Desmond would be there for him to help him.

So he moved to get off the couch, ignoring the slight ache in his legs and the sharp twinges of pain in his stump (that thing had been acting up all day, he'd just learned to not pay attention to it) as he moved upstairs to knock on the door to Duncan's room, not exactly sure what he was going to say next. "…Duncan?"

"Go away!"

Desmond frowned. Typical response. "Duncan, I'm not going away, sorry."

"I said go away! Leave me alone!"

Desmond sighed, leaning against the door while resisting the urge to just barge in there. "What is your problem with me, huh? Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because I do! Because you're awful!"

"You don't even _know_ me, how can you think I'm awful?"

"I know enough! Enough to know that you're awful, and I wish you'd just go away!"

Desmond sighed again, rubbing at his eyes. This wasn't working. If anything, he was probably making Duncan more upset, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He just wanted to know why Duncan was so angry, what he could do to make it better…why he hated him so much. "…I don't know why you hate me, but…I don't hate you. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

For a minute, there was silence, and he wasn't sure that Duncan was going to say anything at all. Then, he heard his brother's voice, quietly responding, sounding not so angry, just…confused and upset.

"…Why did Mom have to like you best?"

…wait, was _that _what this was about? Seriously? Of all the dumb, unfounded reasons to dislike a person…it wasn't even true, Desmond was sure of that. He had to resist the urge to snort, because this was ridiculous. "You think Mom liked me best? Really? If I know Mom, and I think I do, than I know she didn't like me better."

He could hear Duncan snorting in disbelief. "Of course she liked you best! She left right after you died, she didn't even say goodbye or call or leave a note or anything! Whenever you got mentioned or came up in conversations she'd always get sad…she loved you best…"

Desmond suddenly felt angry, though he wasn't sure if he was angry at Duncan or his parents. _This _was what his brother thought? He had _no _clue.

This kid needed a reality check, and as Desmond pushed open the door to Duncan's room, he decided he was gonna have to give him one, whether he liked it or not. Duncan was sitting on his bed, holding a pillow close to his chest, and for a second it looked like he was going to throw the pillow at Desmond. Instead, the kid just glared at Desmond, hugging the pillow tighter. "Get out of my room."

"No. Listen up, because you need a fucking reality check. She was my mother, and yeah, she loved me, but I know for a fact that she loved you too, probably more than she _ever_ loved me. Wanna know how I know that? She _stood up_ _for you_. Do you have ANY idea what that means? All of the shit our dad puts you through, all that pressure he shoves onto your shoulders that makes you feel like you have something to _prove _to _him_ when he might not give a shit about either of us? It was worse for me. She didn't stand up for me like she _clearly _did for you. She didn't let William hit you whenever you screwed up, she didn't let him smack you for _every little mistake_. You know what she did when William hit me when I messed up? She didn't stand up for me. She just let it happen. If she loved one of us more, it was_ you_, because she loved you enough to say no to our father. My death didn't make her leave. It was a long line of bullshit she'd had to deal with from our dad, and she'd had enough. You hating me isn't gonna bring her back."

And oh, he knew he was being cruel right now, but Duncan needed to hear this, he needed to realize how much better he had it than Desmond. And maybe there was a part of him that was taking his own hurt out on the kid, and he knew he shouldn't…but Duncan needed to hear this, and the truth hurts.

Duncan glared at him, looking like he was going to cry, holding his pillow tighter to his chest. "Well, it helps! Why couldn't you just stay dead!"

"Because that's not how the world works. Because life is cruel and unfair and even the fucking savior of the world isn't allowed to be happy!"

Duncan's glare narrowed, and he put the pillow down as he got off the bed, moving to stand in front of Desmond. "You wanna know _why _I hate you? It didn't matter that you weren't the good kid. You were the standard I had to live up to. Duncan, do this, Duncan, do that, Duncan do you WANT to turn out like Desmond? But you know what? It never worked! I will NEVER get away from you or be as good as you. You were a lazy good for nothing and you're STILL one of the best on the Farm! And then you died and saved the world and I knew nothing would ever be good enough, Dad would NEVER see me as anything other than Duncan, the little brother of the man who saved the world, the backup son he probably doesn't need. And then mom left, mom stood up for you every time Dad threw your name around like an insult, and she LEFT!"

The kid was practically screaming at him, and when he'd finished his rant, he just stared up at Desmond, the atmosphere tense between them. Then he glared and moved towards the door. "So that's why. That's why I hate you. Now get out of my room."

For a minute, Desmond didn't move, didn't say anything, just staring at Duncan, who looked like he was going to start yelling or crying at any second. Eventually, he just sighed, shaking his head as he moved to leave the room. "... Fine. You can be angry at me for something I wasn't a part of. You can be alone with your anger and your hate. I've seen it destroy better men then a nine year old boy, but if that's what you want, then fine."

Desmond didn't give Duncan a chance to respond as he left the room, closing the door behind him. He moved to head back downstairs, to get a drink and try to clear his head (he'd been harsh, but hadn't he needed to be harsh? The kid was angry and hurt, but it wasn't Desmond's fault, why couldn't they just get along). Before he could get far, though, he felt a sharp pain in his stump, and had to fight the urge to cry out in pain. His stump had been acting up all day, but it had been small aches and pains, nothing serious. Nothing like this…

Of course this day could get worse. It could always get worse.

* * *

"But if that's what you want, then fine."

Duncan just stared at Desmond as he finally left the room, closing the door behind him. For a few minutes, Duncan just stood there, trying to process everything that had just happened.

All he'd wanted was for his mom to come home, to make him heart shapes pancakes and hug him and tell him she loved him, that everything was all right. He just wanted his mom back…

But she wasn't coming back, and he was left alone with his anger. And he hated it. Desmond was right, and he _hated_ that he was right.

He thought he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance, and he flinched. It was too much. It was all too much. He quietly went back to his bed, picking up his pillow and hugging it close to his chest as he finally started to cry.

He wasn't sure how long he lay on his bed, sobbing into his pillow, crying out all the anger and the hurt until there was nothing left but a numb empty feeling. He probably would've stayed there for the rest of the night if he hadn't heard a loud moan of pain. Hugging his pillow tighter, Duncan sat up, rubbing at his eyes. As quick as he'd heard the sound, it was gone. Maybe he'd imagined it…he was tired and he'd just had a good cry, it was entirely possible that he was hearing things.

Then he heard it again. It sounded sort of like Desmond. Like he was hurt.

He wasn't sure what to do for a minute. He really didn't want to see Desmond right now, didn't want to talk to him, but if he was in trouble…well, if something happened to Desmond, his dad wouldn't be happy.

Duncan sighed, letting go of his pillow and pushing off the bed, going to see what was wrong. The noises seemed to be coming from the bathroom, so Duncan headed down the hall, preparing himself for the worst (and to not snap at Desmond. If he was hurt, he shouldn't do that.). Despite that, he wasn't prepared for what he saw when he got to the bathroom.

Desmond was lying in the bathtub, curled up into a ball, clutching at his stump, trying not to move. Every time he moved, it seemed like whatever was causing him pain (Duncan was assuming it was his stump, from the way he was clutching at it), acted up, and Desmond had to bite on his lip to stop himself from crying out again.

For a minute or so, Duncan just stared at Desmond, who didn't seem to notice him. He'd never seen Desmond like this before. Vulnerable. In pain. Imperfect. Human.

His brothre was always two things in Duncan's mind: the perfect, flawless savoir of the human race, or the worthless slacker who abandoned his family and ran away. But right now, he was neither of those things. He was just an ordinary man, in pain.

Desmond shifted in the tub again, groaning slightly as he did so, before noticing Duncan standing by the door, staring at him. He just raised an eyebrow at Duncan. "What're you looking at, kid?"

"You."

Desmond laughed, a bitter, hollow sound, as he shook his head, wincing slightly. "Well, get a good long look, because this is what a hero looks like."

Duncan wasn't sure what to say to that. He wasn't sure what to say or do, but Desmond was clearly in pain. So he wordlessly moved over to the medicine cabinet, grabbing a bottle of painkillers off one of the shelves, before moving to hand the bottle over to Desmond. "Here."

"Thanks."

Duncan just nodded, watching Desmond pop open the bottle and down about five pills. He hoped those would help. "What's wrong with your stump?"

"Not entirely sure. I think it's got to do with the weather…low pressure, makes the bones and nerves ache."

"You were fine earlier, though."

"Well, the storm got worse. Heh," Desmond shook his head, laughing bitterly to himself, "of course it did. It can always get worse."

Duncan never had a chance to respond to that as a loud crack of thunder echoed throughout the house, and he flinched, jumping a little bit. He hated thunder. It was a stupid thing to hate, and an even stupider thing to be afraid of, but he couldn't help it. Thunder was loud and violent and scary and he hated it. Desmond raised n eyebrow at him, wincing as he moved to try and sit up in the tub. "Scared of thunder, D?"

Duncan chose to ignore the question. He didn't want to talk about his fears. "I don't get it, though. The weather's been bad all day. Why would you go out if you knew your stump was gonna hurt?"

"I didn't know. I haven't been caught in a thunderstorm before," Desmond replied, voice strained. He was clearly still in a great deal of pain, and he seemed to be trying to ignore it as best as possible just to talk to Duncan. There was a part of him in the back of his mind that recognized this was the first real conversation he'd had with Desmond since before he knew who he was…and that before he knew who Desmond was, he'd actually liked talking to him.

Desmond shifted with a pained groan, moving to lie back down in the tub. Why was he even lying in the tub, anyway? Duncan frowned a bit. If he was hurting, he should be in bed or something. "Maybe you should go lie down…not in the tub, I mean."

Desmond smirked slightly at him, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, right, I hadn't thought of that."

"Why are you even lying in the tub, anyway? Wouldn't a bed be more comfortable or something?"

"I came in here to try and grab some pain meds…it just hurt too much, though. Didn't want to be standing anymore. It seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? And now I just…don't want to move."

Duncan shrugged. In a weird way, it did make sense. He was about to say so when another loud boom of thunder cracked through the air, and he flinched, biting his lip nervously.

"Hey…are you okay?"

He wasn't okay. He was scared. But he was supposed to be strong, and tough, and not be afraid of anything…

…but if it was okay for Desmond to not be perfect, then maybe, just for one night, he didn't have to be perfect either. "I…I'm scared of thunder, okay…?"

Desmond just nodded, giving him a small smile. "You're allowed to be scared, little D."

…he was allowed to be scared. There was nothing wrong or bad about being afraid of thunder…

"_It's okay to be afraid of things, Duncan. As long as I'm around, the bad things won't hurt you."_

…just like his mother said…

Without saying a word to Desmond, Duncan ran out of the bathroom to his room, grabbing his pillow before rushing back, holding it close to his chest. Desmond raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

"…can I get in the tub with you…?"

Desmond blinked, surprised at the request, before nodding, smiling warmly as he scotched over a little bit. "Sure. C'mon in."

Duncan nodded and climbed into the tub, clutching his pillow to his chest as he lay next to his brother. They were both quiet for a bit, until another boom of thunder rumbled, and Duncan whimpered quietly, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest, shivering slightly. Despite being in a great deal of physical pain, Desmond scooted closer to Duncan, gently putting his hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, D…it's okay. …I'm sorry I'm not mom."

Duncan nodded quietly. "I miss Mom."

"I know. I do too."

"…I'm sorry I got so mad at you…"

"It's okay."

Duncan blinked. It's okay…? That's all Desmond had to say to him? He'd treated him terribly since he got here, for no good reason, and he was just gonna brush it all off with an 'it's okay'? Why wasn't he mad? "Doesn't it bother you, though? I mean, I guess I don't have a really good reason for hating you…and I've been mean to you for ages…"

Desmond shrugged, voice strained with pain as he responded. "You're nine. Mom is gone and you think that Dad walks on water. I think you deserve a little slack."

Duncan didn't say anything. He noticed how pained Desmond still sounded, and he squirmed, turning around to face Desmond as he handed him his pillow. As scared of the thunder as he was, his brother probably needed it more than he did right now. "…Here. It's for your stump. It makes bad things better…it just takes a while to work sometimes, but maybe it'll help."

Desmond looked surprised at that, but smiled warmly as he took the pillow, placing it under his stump before gently ruffling Duncan's hair. Duncan squirmed a bit in protest at that, but he didn't yell at Desmond.

He wasn't sure how long they lay there in the tub in silence, the storm still rumbling overhead. All he knew was that it was late, and eventually, he slowly nodded off into sleep next to Desmond.

* * *

Duncan awoke the next morning in his own bed with his pillow next to him. He was a bit sore (Which was probably what happens when you fall asleep in a bathtub), and a bit tired, but mostly, he was confused. He remembered falling asleep the night before in the bathroom, next to Desmond…so why was he back in his own room?

Desmond couldn't have brought him in there, could he? He'd barely been able to move last night, there was no way he could've carried Duncan back in here. But Dad wasn't due home for a few days…

Frowning, Duncan got up and headed downstairs to fix himself some breakfast. To his surprise, he'd been beaten to the kitchen by Desmond, who was…oh. _Oh._

Desmond was by the oven, making pancakes.

They weren't heart shaped or covered with strawberries, and it wasn't Valentine's Day anymore, but the gesture still brought a smile to Duncan's face. There was no way his brother could've known what he and his mom did every year on Valentine's Day. He was just doing this to be nice. Or because he was sick of cereal every morning, but it was probably to be nice. Desmond noticed Duncan standing in the doorway and smiled, waving him over.

"Hey, little D! Come help me with the pancakes."

For a moment, Duncan hesitated. Despite what happened between them last night, he still had a lot of issues when it came to Desmond. Nine years of being told nothing but terrible stories about a person can't be undone in one night.

But if he never even gave Desmond a chance, things between them would never get better.

Maybe…maybe Desmond wasn't so bad after all. Maybe he could try to be a little nicer to his brother. Just to see what happened.

"Little D, you gonna come help me? Or are you just gonna stand there and stare while I eat all these pancakes?"

Duncan blinked, before smiling slightly and shaking his head. "Don't call me little D."

And with that, Duncan entered the kitchen to help his brother with breakfast.


	5. Duncan Miles's Day Off

In the days following was Desmond had begun to mentally refer to as 'The Bathtub Incident', Desmond realized two things. One, Duncan wasn't nearly as hostile to him as he had been. Things between them weren't perfect, not by a long shot, but they had improved significantly. Duncan no longer brushed off his attempts to talk to him, and didn't attempt to turn every conversation of theirs into a fight. He no longer went out of his way to insult Desmond, either, which was definitely a plus. It would probably be a while before they could really be considered friends, but things were getting better between them, and Duncan was giving Desmond a chance, which was all he'd really wanted.

Secondly, and more important in Desmond's mind, was that there was something seriously wrong with his brother.

Desmond noticed that his brother had a sort of routine that he went through every day. Duncan would get up, have breakfast, go to his classes and training sessions, come back home and tell their dad what he'd done in said sessions. Then, he'd go up to his room and do his homework, come down for dinner, maybe read a book or something, then he'd go to bed. Desmond had never seen him with any other kids, or doing really anything that a typical nine-year old should do.

He knew better than most that it was…difficult to have something resembling a normal childhood on the Farm (_especially _when you're the Mentor's son), but it wasn't impossible. He'd seen other kids Duncan's age playing together, hanging out and having fun after their classes. He'd never seen Duncan even _talk _to another kid his age. On top of that, a quick glance into his brother's room had left him even more concerned. The kid had no toys or games, no posters or funky bedsheets…nothing that made his room look like it belonged to a nine-year old boy.

If he hadn't known better, he might've mistaken Duncan's room for his father's office, or something similar to that.

So, yeah, Desmond was worried about Duncan. He wasn't 100% sure how justified his concerns were (after all, he wasn't exactly _in _his brother's classes, maybe he just hung out with his friends there), but he was beginning to suspect his brother didn't really have any idea how to be a kid…or how to have fun.

And if his suspicions were correct…well, it was his big brotherly duty to do something to change that. His brother deserved to have a childhood.

"Dad, what does Duncan do for fun?"

William Miles looked up from his newspaper, raising an eye at Desmond, who sat across from him at the kitchen table, a curious look on his face. Duncan had just headed out for his classes (and had promised a full report on his progress when he got back, which Desmond still thought was weird), so it was just Desmond and his father in the house. William raised an eyebrow at Desmond, confused by his question. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious, is all. So, what does little D do for fun?"

William shrugged, putting his paper down. "Well, he enjoys his lessons, I suppose…he's also rather good with the horses, and if I remember correctly, he really likes the climbing exercise and any time we do anything involving the obstacle course."

Desmond sighed, resisting the urge to frown. "Well, that's good and all, but…Dad, Duncan _has _to do those things, they're part of his lessons and stuff. What does he do when he's not in classes? What does he do for _fun?_"

"I just told you. As for when Duncan isn't in lessons, he's usually reading a book or practicing the piano. He's gotten rather good with it, actually."

Desmond did remember seeing a keyboard set up in Duncan's room, but even that still sounded like some form of work. "Okay, well…what about what he does when he's with other kids?"

William just shrugged and moved to get up from the table. "I haven't seen him with other children outside of his lessons so I assume he does the same things with them that he does at training."

Desmond tried to fight back the anger bubbling up inside him. For all of his father's talk of being a better father, he really wasn't doing a good job. How did the man not notice that there was something wrong with his son? He didn't play with other kids, he didn't _act _like a kid…why was his dad not questioning this?

Desmond was about to give his father a piece of his mind (because seriously, how did he not question why Duncan didn't play with other kids?), but William was already heading for the door. "Desmond, I'll be with Shaun and Rebecca before I go to work with some of the teams in the field. I'll be back later, make sure Duncan's gotten started on his homework by the time I get back, okay?"

For a brief moment, Desmond considered telling his dad exactly where he could shove Duncan's homework, but he stopped as he had an idea. He just smiled to himself, nodding at his father. "Gotcha, Dad. See you later."

William raised an eyebrow at Desmond's grin, but said nothing as he headed out of the house. Desmond waiting a moment, making sure that his father was well and truly gone, before he got up, moving to quickly clean up the kitchen before heading out, making sure to grab some money as he left.

Duncan clearly had no idea what fun actually was. And Desmond was determined to show his brother the best, most fun day of his life, and teach him how to act like a kid.

"Duncan, can you tell us about the influence of the Assassin's during the American Revolution, and what, if any, long term impacts they may have had on this country during its founding?"

Duncan nodded, smiling to himself as he stood up from his desk to properly answer his teacher's question. "Yes, Ms. Miller. The Assassin Order as established in the United States was previously weakened to the point of near annihilation during the Seven Year's War, but during the Revolution, it began to rebuild, and Assassins were directly involved in several major battles of the Revolution, and its believed that Assassin allies were among the founding fathers, though we can't be completely sure of that."

His teacher nodded, giving him a small smile. "Very good, Duncan."

Duncan just nodded, grinning to himself as he sat down. A couple of his classmates shot him nasty looks as he sat at his desk, and he chose to ignore them. What did they know? They all thought he got off easy, being the Mentor's son, and that anything he said would've been considered correct. He knew that telling them otherwise would do nothing, they wouldn't listen to him. They didn't like him, and ignored him…so he ignored them right back, because what do you say to a group of kids who are determined to dislike you no matter what?

Besides, he was going to spend the majority of his life talking to adults, anyway. He didn't really _need _to talk to kids, anyway.

Lessons were proceeding as usual, with his teacher giving them a typical history lesson, occasionally calling on students to answer questions. After they went through this, they'd probably go outside and work on practical skill training, before going back in for more lessons. It was all very typical, and Duncan liked it like that.

Which was why he (along with everybody in the classroom) was surprised when somebody knocked on the classroom door. They weren't supposed to be getting visitors or guest lecturers today…and Ms. Miller looked just as confused as they did. She just stared skeptically at the door, and Duncan noticed her reaching for her gun as she called for their unexpected visitor to come in.

"Please tell me this is Duncan Miles's classroom. I tried three other rooms before this one and they were all wrong."

Duncan had to fight back a groan at the familiar voice of his brother. Oh, lord, what was Desmond doing here…? Things between them may have been getting better, but that didn't mean he wanted his brother just randomly dropping in on his lessons like this. From the look his teacher was giving him, she seemed to be of the same mind as Duncan. "Yes, this is Duncan's classroom. But we're currently in the middle of a lesson, so you'll have to leave now, sir."

Duncan sighed, putting his head on his desk as Desmond just shook his head and walked up to Ms. Miller. "I'm sorry to interrupt your class like this, but I need Duncan to come with me. Mentor's request, you understand."

Desmond waved his hand vaguely, as the classroom filled with the murmurs of students. Duncan lifted his head off his desk, staring at Desmond, confused. Dad wanted him? _Now_? Why? Was he in trouble…?

Ms. Miller didn't seem to be convinced. "I'm sure, but if it's so serious, the Mentor should've called ahead and let us know he was sending somebody to pick up Duncan, or he should've come himself. I'm sorry, but until I get confirmation from the Mentor, I can't release Duncan."

Desmond frowned, leaning on Ms. Miller's desk. "You're right, of course…I'm so sorry for interrupting your class, it's just…well, he can't. It's one of _those _sorts of things, you know."

Duncan didn't understand why Ms. Miller looked so flustered as she answered Desmond, stammering slightly as she spoke. "I know, but…but I can't just—"

"You think I'd be here if I didn't have to be? Trust me, the Mentor would've rather sent somebody else. Just this once…please?"

"Look, I really shouldn't…"

"I know, I should've brought a note or something…must've slipped his mind when he sent me down here. Forgive me?"

Desmond gave Duncan's teacher his most charming smile, and Duncan just stared. What was he doing? If this was so important, why was he acting so casually about everything? As soon as they got out of there, he wanted an explanation to what was going on. Ms. Miller hesitated for a moment longer, before sighing slightly and nodding, gesturing over at Duncan. "Fine…Duncan, you're free to go. I expect to see you back in class tomorrow, no excuses. And tell your father I said hello."

Desmond grinned at her again, nodding in thanks before moving to Duncan's desk, smiling down at him. "C'mon, Duncan."

Duncan nodded, gathering his things up as he followed Desmond out of the classroom. He looked over his shoulder once, just to check and make sure this was really okay. Ms. Miller was just sort of staring at Desmond, a strange look in her eyes, and the other kids were shooting his looks (which made sense, he was getting out of class early). His teacher seemed be unaware of him looking at her, so he just shrugged, following Desmond out of the classroom, down the hall, and out of the learning center of the training complex. Before they could get much farther than that, Duncan stopped Desmond, grabbing onto his sleeve. "Okay, will you please tell me what's going on? What does Dad want? Am I in trouble? Why didn't he send a note or something?"

Desmond shook his head, chucking slightly as he shook Duncan off his sleeve. "No, no, jeez, you're not in trouble. Relax, little D."

"Okay, so if I'm not in trouble, what exactly does Dad want?"

"Nothing."

Duncan just stared at him, momentarily a bit confused before getting angry. His dad _didn't _call him out of his lessons? "So…you basically just lied to get me out of class for…for what, nothing?"

"Woah, calm down, little D! I didn't pull you out of class for nothing!"

"So then what did you pull me out for?"

Desmond grinned wickedly at Duncan. "We're going into town, and we're gonna go and have some fun. But first…wanna learn how to hotwire a car?"

"So, why exactly are we stealing a car?"

Desmond sighed, giving Duncan as look as they walked through one of the Farm's parking lots, not too far from Duncan's school. "We're not stealing a car, little D. We're just borrowing it so we can go into town. Stealing implies that we're not going to give it back, which we will when we're done with it."

"That doesn't answer my question, though."

"Well, it's not like we can walk to town. It's sort of a hike from here."

Duncan just looked at him, confused. Desmond shook his head, giving him a small smile. Poor kid didn't fully understand why Desmond had gotten him out of his classes, and had been asking a myriad of similar questions for the past five minutes. "Look, don't worry about the details and stuff, okay? We're borrowing a car, going into town to have fun, bringing it back, and going home. That's it."

Duncan just shrugged, looking as if he didn't get it. Before the day was out, though, Desmond was going to make him understand exactly what it was to have fun and relax.

"Okay, little D, I need you to help me pick out a car. Probably gonna need your help hotwiring it, too…haven't tried that one armed, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Does it matter what car I pick?"

"Nah, not really. It's a temporary pick, after all."

Duncan looked around for a moment, before walking over to a silver truck. "Here, how about this one?"

Desmond gave the truck a quick once over. It looked sturdy, relatively new…it would do. He turned to Duncan and nodded. "Good choice, little brother."

"Don't call me little."

Desmond chose to ignore that comment and he went to try the door (on the off chance the owner forgot to lock it, because that would make this whole process one step easier). As he expected, the door was locked. "Locked. Okay, nothing we can't get around."

He moved to pull out a pin and pick from his pocket, handing the pin to Duncan. He knew he wasn't going to be able to pick the lock one handed…and who knows. He could spin this into a practical application of nifty Assassin skills (which was only sort of true, but maybe it would make Duncan happy, which was the goal of the day). "Lesson one of being an Assassin, especially one growing up in a complex where they like to lock all the doors: always keep a lockpick on you. Preferably more than one."

Duncan nodded, smiling slightly. "I have a lockpicking kit at home…Harlan gave it to me for my eight birthday."

"Cool, cool. You know how to use it?"

Duncan hesitated for a second before shaking his head, looking a little embarrassed. "No, not really…I haven't had much of a chance to use it…"

This surprised Desmond. When he'd been younger, his father locked every door he could in an attempt to keep Desmond from breaking out. It hadn't worked, of course (but it _had_ been a valiant effort, and Desmond gave his father points for trying).

But he'd been a kid with a habit of running off (and running away). Duncan didn't seem the type to do that, which may explain why their dad wasn't as ritualistic about locking up everything.

Ah well. Maybe his father was changing, as he often claimed to. "Well, it may not be your kit, but you're gonna learn all about picking locks today. I'm gonna need your help with this, though, okay? I need you to stick the pin in the lock and hold it firm. I'll be using the pick to undo the tumblers in the lock."

Duncan nodded, shoving the pin forcefully (maybe a bit too forcefully, but the kid had never done this before) into the lock. "Like this?"

"Perfect. I just need you to hold it steady while I work with the pick. This shouldn't take too long, though."

Duncan snorted, rolling his eyes at Desmond, who just gave Duncan another look as he started working with the pick. Clearly, the kid was underestimating his amazing lockpick abilities. Well, he'd just have to show him wrong.

It only took him about thirty seconds to take care of the lock, smiling triumphantly as he heard the click of the lock (the ever wonderful click of success). He smirked up at a stunned (and hopefully impressed) Duncan. "Don't worry, kiddo, you'll get as good as me with lots of practice."

Duncan bristled at that, looking a bit flustered as he pulled the pin out of the door, passing it back to Desmond. "Okay, now what?"

"Well, I need to open the door, for starters."

Duncan gave him a look, and Desmond could've sworn that he'd seen the same look on his father's face numerous times. It was…unsettling, to see it on the face of a kid. No kid should ever look that serious. "Aw, c'mon, kid, don't give me that look. It just gets more fun from here, promise." He popped open the door, moving to crawl into the driver's seat, unlocking the passenger side door as he did so. Pulling a screwdriver out of his pocket (and if he'd been with anybody else, he would've made a perfectly good innuendo joke), he moved under the seat, unscrewing the plastic cover under the steering wheel and tossing it into the backseat before getting back into the driver's seat. He then turned to Duncan, motioning for him to come into the car. "Okay, I'm gonna need your help again. Ready?"

Duncan nodded, moving under the seat, mindful of Desmond's feet as he did so. "Ready. What do I do?"

"I need you to look for two red wires that look the same. When you find them, strip them and twist them together."

He noticed Duncan's hesitation at this, and he gave him a reassuring smile. "Relax, little D. If you're worried about getting in trouble, nobody's here. If you're worried about getting shocked, that's not gonna happen because the car isn't on yet."

That seemed to relieve whatever nervousness Duncan may have been feeling, and Desmond moved to make more room for his brother under the seat, watching him work with the wires. Duncan looked up at him, still looking a bit nervous. "Am I doing this right?"

"Relax, little D, you're doing just fine. Once you're done with the wires, I'm gonna need you to get out, I think I can do the rest from there."

Duncan looked at him as he moved to get out of the car, doubt written on his face. "Are you sure you can do this with one arm?"

Desmond just snorted. "You can't do all the work, can you? Yes, I'm sure I can do it. Now, if you want something else to do, go keep watch to make sure nobody sees us…_especially _Dad."

Duncan paled a little at that, eyes wide as he nodded and moved to stand by the front of the car. Good. Now Desmond could get the car all ready to go. He moved to jam the screwdriver into the ignition. "Okay, now I just need to grab those wires and rub them together while turning the scr—," he stopped talking to himself suddenly, glancing down at the wires and back at the screwdriver in the ignition.

Well, shit. He _was _going to need two hands for this, after all.

Desmond sighed, irritated, before sticking his head out of the car and hollering for Duncan. "Duncan!"

"Yeah?"

"Turns out I'm gonna need another set of hands after all…so get over here and help me?"

He grumbled slightly as Duncan smugly responded, "I thought you said you could do it yourself?"

"Well, apparently I was wrong, okay? Don't be cheeky about it, just come help me."

Duncan didn't take long after that to come over. "What do you need me to do?"

"It's more stuff with the wires. I need you to go find the ignition wire. It's usually brown. I just need you to strip it like you did the red wires, and then when I say go, touch the twisted red wires to the brown one. I'll be up here working with the ignition up here, and we should be able to get this baby to go together. Got that?"

Duncan nodded, fiddling with the wires, looking up at Desmond when it was done. "Got it. Just tell me when."

Desmond smiled at Duncan, moving to focus on the screwdriver in the ignition slot. "Okay…go." Duncan touched the wires together as Desmond twisted the screwdriver, grinning as he engine revved to life. "Good, good! One more time…"

Duncan touched the wires together again, Desmond twisting the screwdriver, and both brothers grinned as the engine turned over. Duncan moved out from under the driver's seat to get into the passenger seat as Desmond closed everything up, still grinning. "Yep, still got it."

"You just needed my help!"

Desmond shot Duncan a look, trying to ignore the smug smile on his brother's face (though WOW, Duncan wore the Miles Smirk well). "So I've got one arm, sue me. It's a good thing this is an automatic, you don't have to watch me try to drive stick with one arm." He couldn't help but enjoy how fast Duncan's smirk faded at the prospect of Desmond driving stick one handed.

"Relax, little bro. You don't have to worry about that this time. Now let's get out of here before somebody catches us. We've got a big day ahead of us."

All in all, the drive into town was relatively uneventful. For the first few minutes, neither Desmond or Duncan said anything; Desmond was too busy concentrating on driving with one arm, and Duncan wasn't 100% sure what he should stay. There was a part of Duncan that was still a little confused about why Desmond had gotten him out of lessons. He'd said they were going to go and have fun…and that was it. What sort of fun was Desmond talking about? Duncan had been having fun in lessons, hadn't he?

What exactly was Desmond planning?

After a few minutes of silence (which Duncan suspected were more awkward for him than they were for Desmond), Desmond spoke up, glancing over at Duncan quickly and giving him a small smile. "So, Duncan. Tell me about your friends. You know any kids?"

Duncan blinked, a little surprised at the question. Desmond had been in his class, he'd seen the other kids there…but he didn't really _know _them, so he wasn't sure if they counted (or why Desmond was asking, for that matter). "Well, there are kids in my classes and my training group. But I don't really talk to them. Do they count? I mean, I guess I'm sort of friends with Dad's coworkers, they're all pretty nice to me when they come over for business."

"Why don't you talk with the kids in your classes?"

Duncan just shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it's because I'm the Mentor's son, and they all think I've got it easy and can get away with anything, or something like that. I don't know why they think that, but I guess that doesn't matter, because I don't really understand them anyway. So we don't talk."

Desmond glanced over at him again, an odd look on his face. Duncan wasn't sure why Desmond was so focused on this. Why did it matter if he talked to the kids in his group or not?

"Well, that's a dumb reason not to talk to them. You should talk to them, you might get along with them!"

Duncan was quiet for a moment, thinking. There was a part of him that was curious about what the other kids in his class did after lessons and training were over for the day. Did they just go straight home to do homework, like he did? Or did they go get together and do other things? What did they do, what did they talk about? Even if the other kids did want to spend time with him…he had no idea what he'd say to them.

"Little D?"

Duncan blinked, his brother's voice bringing him out of his thoughts. "Oh, sorry. I just…what do I say to the other kids?"

"…seriously?"

"What? Won't I spend most of my life talking to adults anyway?"

"Well, yeah, I guess…but you need to spend time with kids your own age! You're only a kid once, you should enjoy it! I mean, you sound like Dad, for chrissake."

Duncan just stared at Desmond for a moment. "Is…that a bad thing?" Their dad was the Mentor, head of the whole Order, and one of the most powerful men Duncan knew. He was somebody to admire, to respect, a good role model for Duncan to follow. Sounding like him had to be a good thing…right?

Desmond sighed, giving Duncan another concerned look. "Duncan, you're nine. You don't _act _like a nine year old. You act like an adult that got stuck in a kid's body. You need to relax more, go out and have fun with other kids. Being so serious at this age…it's not good for you, little D."

Duncan just stared at his feet silently. He wasn't exactly sure how a nine year old was supposed to act. He spent so much time focusing on being a good student and the best son he could be that he'd never really considered whether or not other kids did the same thing. Whether what he did was the normal kid thing to do.

"Look…don't you go out and climb trees or something? I know when I was nine, I was all about tree climbing and horse riding."

He perked up a little at hearing that, nodding eagerly. He _loved _climbing things. It was one of his favorite parts of the obstacle courses his training groups would go through, and it was one of the reasons he looked forward to practical drills so much.

"I can climb trees! I'm the best climber in my group, I always do really well when we have climbing exercises! And I'm a good rider, too, but we don't do as much with the horses…I wish we did more, though. The horses are nice."

Desmond nodded, giving him a small smile. "See? There you go. You like climbing and riding, you like the horses…those are all things you can do outside of lessons too, you know. And you can talk to the other kids about these things. Honestly, little D, you just need to relax a little more…try not to take everything so seriously. Like I said, you're only a kid once, you really should enjoy it while you can. You don't need to start acting like Dad just yet."

His brother's smile grew as he continued. "Hey, you know how to make Ryu do a Hadouken and finish off Sagat? You know how to do that at your age, I guarantee you'll impress the kids in your class"

Duncan just blinked, staring at Desmond like he'd grown another head. His brother had actually been making some sense for a moment, giving him good advice when it came to kids his age…and then he lost him completely with that. "What's a Ryu?"

"…right, we're adding a trip to the arcade to the to-do list for today."

And with that, silence fell on the car once more.

At least, until Desmond decided to turn on the radio.

At first, Duncan wasn't exactly sure what he was listening to. The guitar at the opening of the song was nice, and Duncan thought he might like it, even when voices started to join in, harmonizing with the guitar riffs.

And then the singing started. Duncan frowned a bit, trying to listen to the lyrics, to see if they were any good. He wasn't the biggest fan of music with lyrics, since he always thought it took away from impact of the music itself. It's why the only music he'd ever liked (or really listened to, for that matter) was classical.

He didn't get the song. What did roosters have to do with bullets? This was weird. He just frowned as he looked over at Desmond, who was mouthing along to the lyrics. Clearly, he seemed to enjoy…whatever this was.

"Desmond, what exactly are we listening to?"

"Hmm? Oh, this? We got lucky, this is Rooster!"

Well, that answered exactly nothing. "Can we listen to something classical?"

"Little D, are you kidding? This _is _classic."

"You know what I mean. Something not…whatever this is supposed to be…and stop calling me little D, I'm not that little."

"You're little compared to me, bro. And come on, just give it a chance, you might like it…or you might like whatever comes on next."

Duncan frowned again, slumping in his seat, saying nothing. Clearly, he wasn't going to win this one by complaining or arguing. He'd just have to be patient and wait for something better to come on…or hope for a guitar solo in the middle or some sort of break from the loud singing.

Luckily, the song only lasted for a few minutes. "Okay, Desmond, you picked the last song…lemme pick this time."

"You don't even wanna see what's gonna be on next? You might like it, like I said. Won't know unless you try."

"…fine…"

Slouching a bit more, Duncan let the next song start. And he tried to hate it, he really did. It was loud, with a heavy bouncy beat that was nothing like what he normally listened to…and it was long, too. All techno-y. It wasn't his thing, and he knew he wouldn't like it…

But a minute passed. No lyrics. Just music. And he sat up, frowning to himself. He'd been expecting some sort of screaming loud lyrics to break up the music at some point. That a whole minute had passed with nothing…he hadn't been expecting that at all.

So Duncan sat a little straighter, listening a little closer to the music as it continued. It was repetitive and a little boring…but it wasn't bad.

"Desmond, who is this?"

Desmond, who had been bobbing his head in beat to the music, stopped and glanced over at Duncan, a small smirk on his face. "You like?"

"N-no! I'm just curious, that's all!"

"Sure, okay. Well, this is Deadmau5. They used to play him in the bar all the time, especially on the weekends. You listen to his stuff enough, you really start to like it. Least that's what happened to me."

Deadmau5. It was a…really weird name. But it wasn't bad at all. Duncan couldn't say he liked it, but it wasn't terrible, that was for sure. "Do…you have more of this sort of stuff?"

"I thought you were just curious, little D," Desmond said, voice teasing.

"I am! Why do you think I'm asking if you've got more! And…and stop calling me little D, I told you, I'm not little!"

Desmond just laughed as Duncan glared at him again, the music playing on in the background as they drove into town.

The movie theater was a lot bigger than Duncan had expected it to be. He'd been expecting something a little…smaller, for some reason. Maybe it was because he'd never actually been to a proper movie theater. The only movie's he'd ever seen (usually documentaries) had been screened on the Farm, in their community center. So, he'd always pictured a real movie theater to be small and cozy, like the screenings at the farm.

To say he was unprepared for a proper real movie theater was an understatement. Duncan was…overwhelmed. The place was huge! The lobby was filled with people and posters, there was a huge concession stand and ticket booth (both of which had rather long lines at them), and he thought he could make out a game room or something off near the restrooms. It was…_wow._

"Careful, little D. you keep your mouth open like that, you're gonna let flies is."

Duncan blinked in surprise as he turned around to look up at Desmond, who was grinning and waving two tickets in front of his face.

"I…I wasn't staring or anything, it's just…I didn't think it'd be so big!"

"I know exactly how you feel. You should've seen me when I ran away. I gaped like that at _everything_," Desmond laughed, moving to hand Duncan a ticket. "Anyway, I got us tickets. We grab the 3D glasses on the way in, don't let me forget, okay?"

Duncan blinked, taking the ticket and looking at it. "Escape from Planet Earth…?

"Yeah, it's a cartoon. Aliens, prison break adventures…it looks like it'll be fun!"

Duncan tried not to look too disappointed.

"You okay, D?"

"Yeah, I…well, I sort of wanted to go to see Lincoln."

Desmond raised an eyebrow at Duncan, skeptical. "D, Lincoln is _not _a kid's movie. Besides, you know how it ends already. I'm pretty sure you know the whole story, to be honest. You're just gonna nitpick the whole movie for errors and propaganda and stuff, instead of enjoying it for entertainment. Where's the fun in that?"

"But Desmond—"

"D, I am not taking you to see what amounts to basically an overdramatic Oscar bait documentary hiding as a movie, _especially_ one where you know the ending already."

Duncan tried not to pout too much. Desmond had a point, and he hated to admit it, but…maybe going to see a cartoon would be sort of fun. He'd tried listening to different music in the car, and that hadn't been too bad…maybe trying a different movie wouldn't be too bad either. "…Okay, fine, we'll try it…"

"That's all I want, little D," Desmond said with a smile as he moved to ruffle Duncan's hair. Duncan blinked, too surprised by the gesture to move for a second, before he realized exactly what Desmond was doing, squirming out of his grasp.

"What the—Desmond, stop it, you're embarrassing me!"

Desmond just laughed as Duncan squirmed away from him. "Sorry, sorry, couldn't help it! C'mon, let's go get some snacks. You're gonna love the popcorn, movie popcorn always tastes better than microwave stuff, for some reason. Least I think so."

Duncan nodded, still looking a little embarrassed as he followed Desmond off to the concession stand. The line was still relatively long, giving them time to think about what they wanted to get. Duncan knew Desmond had already expressed interest in popcorn, and he seemed to know what was best when it came to movie theater stuff…so he'd just go with whatever his brother thought was best.

Still, when they got closer, Duncan couldn't help but eye the candy display. Candy was a rare treat in the Miles household, saved for special days like Christmas or Easter, and seeing so much of it in one place…he tried not to stare too much.

Desmond ordered when they finally got to the front. "One large popcorn, no butter…and what sort of candy do you want, D?"

Duncan looked up, surprised. "What?"

"I saw you eyeing the candy. Go ahead, pick one out!"

Duncan just stared, first at Desmond, then at the candy display. He hadn't been expecting to get candy…picking one out on the spot was gonna be impossible.

"Little D, if I may make a recommendation…? Try the Sno Caps. Trust me, they're great on their own, and with the popcorn."

Duncan just nodded, still a little surprised that he was getting candy at all. It was always a special occasion sort of thing, and here he was just getting it like it was nothing!

"Cool. Okay, one box of Sno Caps, and a large blue raspberry slushie, two straws. Thanks."

Desmond paid for the food, passing the popcorn and the candy down to Duncan as they headed for their screening. He hated to admit it, but Duncan was sort of excited for the movie. Yeah, it wasn't Lincoln, but it was still a movie up on a proper big screen, not a projector in a community center. And he did promise Desmond he'd try the movie, after all. Thinking positive couldn't hurt…

"Oh, wait! Desmond!"

Desmond looked down. "Hmm?"

"Don't forget to get the 3D glasses. You told me to not let you forget."

Desmond blinked, before laughing, moving to ruffle Duncan's hair again. "So I did! Thanks for reminding me, little D!"

"Aaah, cut it out!" Duncan tried to squirm away from Desmond, to no avail, darting past him towards their theater the first chance he got.

"And then, and then, BOOM! They flew straight out of the canyon, and the 3D made it look so COOL! And then there was that part where the big guy picked up that tank with his chest thing and tossed it like it was nothing!"

Desmond just grinned, nodding as he listened to his little brother rattle on and on about the movie they just saw. As far as movies went, Desmond thought it had been sort of a letdown. You have an interesting concept about aliens escaping from Earth, and he felt that the filmmakers just sort of missed their mark.

But then again, it wasn't like Desmond was the target audience…kids like Duncan were. So what if Desmond thought the movie was sort of boring? Duncan seemed to enjoy it, and that was the important thing.

Desmond was just happy to see his brother acting like a kid for once.

"I take it you liked the movie then, little D?"

He tried not to laugh at the way Duncan just_ stopped _and immediately started to backtrack, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I…I didn't…um…that is…it wasn't _bad_, but I still think we should've gone to see Lincoln."

Desmond snorted, shaking his head and smiling. "Well, next time you can pick the movie, deal?"

"…deal," Duncan agreed with a nod, though he still looked rather skeptical. "…does this mean you're going to be taking me out of class on a regular basis? Because I don't think Ms. Miller is gonna believe the same story twice."

"Hm. Good point. Well, I'll either have to start getting creative with my stories, or we'll just have to try and do this sort of thing on the weekend next time."

"Why didn't we do this on the weekend this time, anyway? I mean, then you wouldn't have had to get me out of class or steal a car…"

"Borrowing, little D, not stealing. And every kid needs a day off once in a while. It's not gonna hurt you to miss one day of lessons. Promise."

Duncan just stared up at him, still looking rather unconvinced, before just shrugging, sighing. "Okay, I guess maybe you're right…so, what are we doing now?"

Desmond frowned, trying to remember if there was a proper arcade in town (probably not, it _was _a small town and arcades weren't all that common these days anyway), before glancing over to the game room area of the theater. It was filled with the typical sorts of entertainment: skill cranes, driving games, an air hockey table…he thought he saw what appeared to be the Jurassic Park arcade game next to what looked like a Galaga machine. No Street Fighter machine in sight…but in a pinch, this would have to do.

"Wanna learn how to shoot alien bugs?"

The look on Duncan's face was priceless (a strange mix of confusion and interest, complete with raised eyebrows), and he just stared at Desmond, apparently at a loss for words. Desmond just grinned, nodding over to the game corner. "C'mon, I'll show you what I mean."

Duncan, as it turned out, was a natural when it came to Galaga.

Desmond had been surprised at how fast his brother took to video games, chalking it up to his Assassin training when it came to reflexes and response time. He'd taken to Galaga like he was an old pro, managing to get up to level 9 on his first run (which was more than Desmond had been able to do when he'd first started playing arcade games). Desmond was just a little disappointed that he couldn't play along with him, teach his brother what he knew about gaming by showing him what he could do. You needed two arms to play Galaga, after all.

"Desmond, aren't you gonna play any of the games?"

Desmond blinked and looked at Duncan, who was emerging from a round on the Jurassic Park game (and if the screen was anything to go by, a very short and unsuccessful round at that). "It sounded like you were really good at games, from what you said in the car…so how come you aren't playing any?"

Desmond just shrugged. "Most of these games require two hands to play, so I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, as it were. So I'm going to observe you and your progress, my young padawan."

It was a legitimate excuse, but Duncan looked unconvinced nonetheless. "If you want to play one of the games, I could do the moving stick thing—"

"Joystick, little D."

"Whatever. I could do the joystick and you could push the buttons. That way you could play too."

It wasn't a bad idea. But as nice as it was for Duncan to offer, Desmond wasn't exactly sure _why _Duncan was offering. Unless…

"Okay, little D, which game is giving you trouble?"

Duncan looked surprised for second, before going pink, embarrassed. "The fighter game over there. It's too hard. You said you were good at games, so I thought you could maybe beat it."

"I guess it couldn't hurt to give it a try…who knows. Maybe together, we form some sort of awesome gaming duo! So, which game is it?"

Desmond looked over at the console Duncan was pointing to. "Marvel vs Capcom 2…well, I've never played before, but if it's anything like Street Fighter, then we might have a chance."

Duncan nodded, a hopeful grin on his face as he started to walk towards the game console. "So, you'll play with me?"

"You bet. C'mon, let's go show this game who's boss."

Desmond and Duncan ended up spending about an hour (and many, many quarters) in the movie theater's game room before leaving to finally go get lunch. Duncan seemed to genuinely enjoy the games, no matter how much he tried to deny it or brush off his excitement, and Desmond had a feeling that, if he hadn't run out of quarters, they probably would've stayed there longer, as Duncan seemed to take their losing Marvel vs Capcom 2 very personally, coming back to it several times to try and beat it, with no luck.

Eventually, Desmond managed to convince Duncan to give up, that they'd come back another time and kick the game's butt, and they'd gone off to lunch at a nearby diner. Desmond liked it because it was relatively cheap and the food was delicious, and Duncan liked it because he could get pancakes for lunch. It had been nice, just two brothers out for a day of fun, and it was good to see Duncan acting like a kid.

Desmond had their whole day planned out: Movies, lunch, comic book store, then back home before their dad realized what he'd done. Maybe they'd grab Burger King to go on the way out of town, but that was something he'd worry about later. Right now, they were on their way to the comic book store. The walk was relatively quiet, with Duncan occasionally asking him questions about the comic store (Did they sell things other than comics? Would they take his mother's Barnes and Noble card info?). He almost didn't notice when Duncan suddenly stopped, staring at one of the stores they'd walked by.

"Hey, lil D, what're you do—ahhh."

Desmond smiled, shaking his head a little. Of course. Duncan had stopped right in front of the toy store, and was staring into the display window, eyes wide.

His brother had probably never even been in a toy store before, and Desmond remembered how his room had been filled with books and equipment without a toy in sight. He'd probably never even _owned _a proper toy before.

Well, they'd have to change that.

"Toy store. Excellent choice. Wanna go in?"

Duncan turned to him, eyes still wide, a look of disbelief on his face. "We can _go in_?"

"Course we can. This is our fun day, we can do whatever we want. That includes going to the toy store."

Duncan just nodded quietly, and Desmond took his hand with a grin, leading his stunned brother into the toy store. It wasn't a big store, and given that it was a school day, it was relatively empty. For all intents and purposes, they had the toy store to themselves. Duncan just looked up at Desmond, who smiled and nodded.

"Go on, kid. Have fun."

He never thought he'd see his brother smile as big as he did in that moment, as he darted off into the toy store. Desmond smiled, shaking his head, following after his brother (from a distance, of course, Duncan got sensitive about the weirdest things).

Duncan seemed interested in everything, going from row to row, examining toys with an almost clinical intensity, like they were potential tools rather than playthings. It was disconcerting, to say the least (though, given their upbringing, it wasn't exactly unexpected either).

They'd have to work on fixing that.

Desmond watched Duncan has he weaved through the rows of toys, eyeing some more closely than others, not seeming to show any real specific interest in any particular toy. And then he got to the stuffed animals. At first, it seemed like Duncan was going to do the same thing he'd done with the other toys (stop, examine, maybe pick up a toy or two, put it back, move on).

So Desmond was surprised to watch as his brother just stopped, staring at a large plush bunny in a blue dress with the same wide eyed expression he'd had when he first saw the toy store. Duncan didn't do anything, didn't pick it up or analyze it to some sort of secondary use. He just stared.

It took Duncan a few minutes to move on to the next aisle, glancing over his shoulder at the bunny as he moved on, and Desmond went over to get a better look at the toy that had caught his brother's eye.

It was a large bunny that looked like it might've come up to Duncan's chest, white with a blue dress and a pink scrunchie on its ear. Desmond moved to touch it, noting how soft it was. There really wasn't anything special about it, nothing that made it stand out from the other stuffed toys in the aisle…so what made this one stand out to Duncan? Desmond frowned as he looked the bunny once more before moving down the aisle to keep an eye on Duncan, an idea forming in the back of his mind.

Duncan moved back to the stuffed animal aisle twice, both times stopping in front of that bunny, even picking it up and just holding it once, before he moved back to the front of the store, face unreadable. Desmond just followed him back up front, wondering why his brother hadn't even asked if he could get the bunny. Clearly, he was interested in it, and he liked it…Desmond wouldn't have said no to buying it if he'd asked.

But Duncan hadn't even mentioned it, so Desmond would let it go for now, smiling at Duncan as he held the door for him. "You ready to go to the comic store, little D?"

"Yeah, let's go."

The idea in the back of Desmond's mind didn't go away as they left the store and headed down the street to their next destination.

Unlike the movie theater, the comic book store was a lot…well, smaller than Duncan had been expecting. He'd pictured it being like a book store, large and sprawling, with a café and a DVD section (But, you know, with more comic books than anything else). What he'd got was the exact opposite: a small, rather cramped store, with only a few people inside. The walls were lined with comics, there was a small DVD section near the front, he thought there was a toy display near the back…it wasn't what he'd been expecting at all.

But it was nice, in its own way. He'd never seen so many comics in one place before…

"Like what you see, little D?"

Duncan shrugged, trying not to look too impressed. Harlan had always made it sound like comics were hard to come by, and here they were, in a store _full_ of them. "It's okay, I guess…It's a lot smaller than I expected it to be, though."

Desmond nodded, heading inside. "It's a niche industry. To be honest, I'm surprised this one is still open. I used to go to places like this all the time after I ran away…"

Duncan just watched as his brother headed down the rows of comics, following after him quietly. It wasn't like being in the toy store, where everything was new and exciting…he'd seen comics before. He had a small stash of them hidden under his bed. He hadn't really thought about their dad as he and Desmond had been at the movies, or when they'd been playing games or having lunch…but for some reason, being in the comic book store made him think about what his father would say when he found out about him getting out of lessons. Oh, his dad would be _furious._ If Duncan was afraid of what William would say if he found out about Duncan's comic stash, this…this would be ten times worse.

He was in trouble. He was going to be in _sooo_ much trouble.

Desmond seemed to have noticed that Duncan was no longer following him, curiously staring at his brother. "You okay, Duncan?"

Duncan nodded, biting his lip. "Yeah, everything's fine…just…well, can you keep a secret?"

"Sure. What's up?"

"Well…I've got some comics under my bed. Harlan sometimes brings them back after missions, and I keep them under my bed so Dad doesn't think I'm slacking off instead of studying…Desmond, what is he going to say about this? I mean, I cut lessons! That's serious! He's going to think I'm a slacker, I don't want to let him down…"

Desmond just stared at him for a moment, a strange, serious look on his face, before sighing deeply, shaking his head. "You just let me deal with Dad, little D. This was my idea, and if anybody's going to get in trouble for it, it's me."

Duncan was still not convinced he was in the clear. He'd never done anything like this before, and even if Desmond tried to take the blame, he'd still gone along with it, he was still partly guilty…but the look on Desmond's face had him convinced that maybe this would be ok, and his dad wouldn't lose faith in his abilities.

Desmond smiled at him. "It's gonna be okay, little D, promise. Now, tell me about this comic stash of yours! What're you reading?"

"Well…I don't have a whole lot, but I've read Superman, Wonder Woman, Spiderman, and Green Lantern. I've got a couple of the Green Lantern comics, they're my favorites…"

"…So, you're a DC guy then, huh?"

Duncan shrugged. "I guess…is there a big difference between DC and Marvel? I've only read a few books from each, so I can't really tell…"

Desmond looked aghast at that, shaking his head before grabbing Duncan's hand and dragging him off down one of the aisles. "Yeaaah, we're gonna have to fix that, because that? That is unacceptable. As your awesome big brother, it's my duty to teach you the differences between the comic book companies and to make sure you read some good shi-, er, stuff."

Duncan just watched as Desmond started to browse through the shelves of books, before pulling out one and handing it to Duncan. "Here. Trade paperbacks are the best way to read comics. This is the Dark Phoenix Saga, a classic X-Men storyline. Check it out, I'm gonna see if I can't find some House of M or some more recent stories for you, too." Desmond grinned at him briefly before moving to root around in the bookshelf again. Duncan stared at the book for a second before flipping it open, skimming through the first few pages. The art was nice, and it looked like the plot was interesting…he flipped through a few more pages, before turning the book over to look at the back cover to figure out what the book was actually about. It was only then that he noticed the price of the book, and how expensive the whole day must've been for Desmond so far. "Desmond…this is awfully expensive…"

Desmond glanced over his shoulder as he pulled a few more books out of the shelf. "Yeah, so? Don't worry about it, I've got it covered."

"You've been paying for everything, though…isn't it going to add up? I have some money saved at home, I can pay you back for the books…"

Desmond chucked, shaking his head as he moved away from the shelf, crouching down to look Duncan in the eye. "Wanna hear _my_ secret? I'm not as poor as Dad thinks I am. You let me worry about buying the books, okay? Save your money, little D. Just pick out the books you like, and we'll decide which ones to get."

Duncan was still unsure. It didn't feel right, just taking advantage of Desmond like this…Desmond just smiled, handing him a few more books. "You worry too much, little D. Here, take a look at these. House of M, the latest Ultimate Spiderman series…you said you liked Green Lantern, so there's a book of Lantern comics there too."

Duncan blinked, before smiling slightly and taking the books. Desmond was insisting that it was okay…so maybe it was. "Well…okay…if you insist."

"There you go! You flip through those, go see what you like on the shelves…I'll be right back."

"Where're you going?"

"I need to go put more money in the meter. Relax, I'll be gone for ten minutes, tops. Just stay here, pick out some books…I'll be back soon."

Duncan just nodded, moving to sit down on the floor with some of the books Desmond had handed him, watching as his brother left the store. He watched the door for a second, wondering why Desmond thought it would take ten minutes to fill the meter (did they really use up all his quarters at the arcade?), before deciding to flip through the comic books to see what he liked best.

Desmond was only gone for about eight minutes or so, and when he came back to the comic book store, Duncan didn't notice him at first. He was engrossed in one of the trade paperbacks that Desmond had given him. He had no idea how cool Miles Morales was! He was only a little older than him, and he was able to pull off hero stuff and being a student! It was like what the kids in the older training groups did…but with superpowers. He'd have to ask Desmond if he could get this book, he was really enjoying it. The others were good too, but this and the Green Lantern book were his favorites, and Desmond did say he should pick out a few...

Duncan heard a cough, and put the book down. Desmond must've come back. "Hey, Desmond, welcome ba—_oh_. Oh, you _didn't_."

Desmond grinned down at him, and in his arms was the bunny he'd been looking at in the toy store.

Duncan had looked at the bunny a few times in the toy store. It was cute, and soft, and he'd really liked it…he'd wanted to get it, but he hadn't asked. No matter how many times he'd looked at the bunny, he couldn't find a secondary use for it, something that would make it double as a tool or weapon when necessary, so why bother asking? Desmond would've just said no, just like their dad would've. It didn't matter how fast or cunning real rabbits were, a plush bunny wouldn't be useful in a fight.

And yet…here it was. He hadn't even asked about it…and Desmond had gotten it for him anyway.

Desmond's grin grew as he handed Duncan the bunny, moving to ruffle Duncan's hair affectionately. "I did indeed, little man."

Duncan took the bunny gingerly, still amazed that Desmond had actually bought it for him without him even asking. It was just as soft as it had been in the store…and it was his. It was _his_.

He just stared at the bunny for a second, before grinning, hugging it tight and laughing. "I can't believe it! I didn't even ask for it, and…Big D, this is so _cool, _you are the best! I love it, thank you so much!"

Duncan didn't notice the look of surprise on Desmond's face, nor did he see how his brother's eyes widened as he suddenly hugged him tight around the waist, bunny still in his arm as he did so. Desmond blinked, before smiling down at Duncan, hugging him back.

"Big D, you are just the coolest…!"

Desmond laughed, ruffling Duncan's hair again. "I know, little D, I know. I'm glad you like it."

"Him."

"Right, him, sorry. Does he have a name?"

"Uh…well, I kind of wanna call him Beth, like Mom…is that okay?"

Duncan knew it was sort of an odd choice, giving a boy bunny a girl's name, but…it felt right. And if Desmond thought it was weird, it didn't show on his face as he nodded. "I think that's a great name, D. Excellent choice, Mom would be proud."

Duncan nodded, beaming at that, before moving to pick up the comics he'd abandoned on the floor when Desmond came back. "Uh…I picked out a few comics while you were gone, but if you don't wanna get them now after buying Beth, that's okay…"

Desmond snorted, taking the comics from him and shaking his head. "Duncan, I said I'd buy you comics, and I'm buying you comics. I told you, I'm not as poor as Dad thinks, I can afford to get you some more books. These'll probably hold up better than what you've already got, anyway…and there was a DVD near the front that I want to grab anyway, so not getting the comics would just be a waste, don't you think so?"

"Well…I guess so?"

Desmond nodded as he headed up to the counter, grabbing a DVD as he went. "Exactly. Now, let's get these and go grab some dinner before we head home. That sound good to you, little D?"

Duncan smiled, hugging Beth close to his chest as he followed Desmond up to the counter. "Sounds go to me, big D."

They ended up grabbing Burger King drive through on the way back to the Farm, Desmond having decided they were too pressed for time to pull off a sit-down meal. After all, at some point, whoever's car they were borrowing would notice that they were missing something, so it was probably better that they get back before that happened. Duncan got a kid's meal (and complained about getting one, claiming they were just for little kids. He shut up when he got the Transformers toy inside), and Desmond got fries (which Duncan fed him while they were driving back).

All in all, Desmond considered the day a success. He'd wanted to show Duncan the best, most fun day of his life, and he was pretty sure he'd managed to pull that off. He'd never seen Duncan smile like he had when Desmond gave him Beth, or heard him laugh quite like that before…and he'd called him Big D.

That was new…and Desmond loved it. He loved being a big brother, he loved that he was able to do something like this for Duncan, and he loved how _happy _Duncan had been today. How much of a kid he'd been today. They would definitely have to do this again, and soon.

Desmond glanced over at Duncan, who was trying (and failing) to stay awake in his seat as they drove back to the Farm, Beth firmly in his grasp. It had been a long day, after all, it made sense that the kid was tired after all the excitement he'd had.

The ride back to the Farm was quiet, as Desmond chose to keep the radio (or more likely, he suspected, a CD, given the odd choice in music genres being played) off so Duncan could get some rest while Desmond worked on a convincing cover story to tell their dad. Unfortunately, Bill was no idiot, he wouldn't buy whatever Desmond told him…there was probably no way to avoid a confrontation.

Ah well. Desmond knew how to handle their dad, and he could take the blame (this was his idea, after all), so at least Duncan would be fine. The kid didn't deserve to get yelled at for having a day of fun.

Desmond pulled into the Farm's parking lot, relieved that three didn't seem to be any sort of commotion, or any authorities waiting for them there. Good. That meant whoever's car they'd borrowed hadn't noticed it was gone…at least they were in the clear on that front, anyway. As Desmond parked the car back where they'd found it, Duncan started to rouse himself out of his semi-conscious state, stretching out in his seat. "We back yet, Desmond…?"

"Yeah, kiddo, we're back. See, I told you we'd bring the car back!"

"I still think it counts as stealing…"

Desmond snorted, shaking his head and laughing as he got out of the car and headed to let Duncan out. "We can argue the nuances of what does and doesn't count as stealing later, bro. Right now, we need to get back home. If we're lucky, we'll beat Dad back."

"And if we're not lucky…?"

Desmond didn't like how nervous Duncan sounded about that. He knew, just from the way Duncan acted around their father, that William hadn't hit Duncan like he had Desmond...but that didn't mean his father's parenting had miraculously improved.

Desmond shook his head, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Duncan as he offered his brother his hand. "If we're not, you let me handle Dad. This was all my idea, remember? Dad's got no reason to be mad at you."

Duncan looked unsure for a second, before nodding, biting his lip as he took Desmond's hand. "Well, if you're sure it'll be okay…"

"When have I ever steered you wrong, little D?"

Duncan smirked up at him as they left the car exactly where they'd found it. "You want a specific example, or just in general? Does today count?"

"Okay, okay, I get it. Jeez."

Duncan just laughed, grinning at Desmond as they walked back home. "Hey, I don't know if I said it, but…I really did have a lot of fun today. I still don't know if it was a good idea to pull me out of lessons, but it was fun…thanks, big D."

"Any time, little D. And I mean it. Any time you want to do something like this again, we will."

"…can we just not do it during lesson time next time?"

Desmond laughed, shaking his head. "I make no promises, but I'll keep it in mind for the future."

They walked back home in relative silence, Desmond's hand in Duncan's and Duncan's hand holding his new bunny companion's plush paw tight. Desmond noticed the light on in the living room as they got closer to home. Damn, and he'd really hoped to avoid getting yelled at tonight…though maybe they were still lucky. William might've gone to see Shaun and Rebecca, or he might've gone to talk to Harlan or one of the other team coordinators. He could've just left the light on; there was no wait to know just from looking outside if there actually was anybody home. Maybe they'd get away scot free, just this once.

Once Desmond opened the door and was faced with an irate looking William Miles, though, he knew there was no way they were going to get out of this one.

"Where the HELL have you been?"

Desmond sighed, shooting his father a look as Duncan moved to hide behind Desmond's back (Oh, and was he going to give his Dad an earful about that later). "We were out, we're back now. End of story."

"Desmond, don't be a smartass, where were you two?"

"Why does it matter?"

William stared at him for a second, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. "It matters because I got a call from Duncan's teacher asking me if he'd gotten over to me all right! I had no idea what she was talking about, I thought there'd been a security breach! Do you have any idea how WORRIED I was? Then she tells me a one armed man said I'd sent him to pick up Duncan, and…what the hell were you thinking, Desmond?"

"I was THINKING that Duncan deserved to have a day of fun, for once! I mean, I asked you what he did for fun, and you told me he did his _training_ for fun! You couldn't even tell me if you'd ever seen him play with other kids! There's something seriously wrong with this picture, Dad. Duncan is nine, for chrissakes, and he acts like a mini you!"

"I thought he _was_ having fun! Duncan always seemed to enjoy his training, it's all he talks about when he comes home!"

"Dad…he's _nine_ and obsessed with impressing you. What did you think he was going to talk about? No kid enjoys that shit. Hell, I barely enjoy it!"

"That doesn't give you the right to pull him out of lessons!"

Desmond shook his head angrily. "Dad, you don't get it, do you? I have NEVER seen Duncan act like a kid. Not once. I've never seen him play with other kids, or toys, or anything. He should be out there, playing with other kids, climbing trees, having fun! If pulling him out of lessons one time allows him a chance to be a kid, it's worth it!"

"That's not your decision to make, Desmond, you're not his father!"

"No, I'm not. You are. And you should have been noticing these things a long time ago! You don't see him with other kids? You should be asking 'why isn't my son playing with other kids? Is something wrong?' for starters. When all you hear about his day is training stuff, you should ask him what he did after training, or during his breaks, not just assume that's all that happened!"

William and Desmond glared at each other in silence for a moment, before William shook his head, sighing. "Desmond, I don't know what you want me to say. Duncan has always taken his training seriously, I assumed that's why he wasn't out with his classmates when he had free time. I've tried to be a better father, whatever you may think of me."

Desmond glared at his father for a moment longer before nodding curtly. "I know you have, Dad. Duncan doesn't flinch when you raise your hand."

It was a low blow, and Desmond knew that, but it was true. For every step his dad took forward as a parent, he somehow managed to take two steps backwards. William flinched at Desmond's comment, and neither of them said anything for a minute, before Duncan, who had been quiet the entire time, poked his head out from behind Desmond's back, looking up at his dad.

"Dad…? Don't be too mad at Desmond…I know I shouldn't have cut lessons, and I'm sorry, but…," Duncan paused, smiling slightly as he emerged fully from behind Desmond, hugging Beth close to his chest. "But I did have a fun time today…I won't cut lessons again, I promise, just don't be too mad…"

William just stared, first at Duncan, and then at the bunny in his son's arms. "Son, I'm not mad, not at you. Is that a stuffed animal?"

Desmond shot his father a glare, daring him to say something negative about Beth (because if he did, Desmond would rip into him again). "Yeah, it is, old man. What of it?"

William looked like he was about to say something, before Duncan interrupted him, a grin on his face. "Yeah, isn't he cool? Desmond got him for me, his name's Beth, and he's great!"

William just looked at the bunny, confused. "But Beth is a…," he paused, noticing the look Desmond was giving him. Duncan just grinned, hugging Beth closer, and his dad smiled weakly, eyes sad. "A very good name for him, I think. He's very nice, Duncan."

Desmond nodded. Good, his father was starting to catch on. Duncan just smiled wider at his father and brother, before pushing past them, heading for the stairs. "Desmond, Dad, I'm gonna go up to my room to read a book with Beth, is that okay?"

Desmond nodded, smiling. This was what he'd been hoping to see. Duncan acting like a kid. "You go on up and do that, little D…unless you want somebody to come up and read to you?"

For a moment, Duncan's face lit up, like he was considering it, but ultimately, he shook his head. "No, that's okay, I can read on my own…but thanks, big D!" And with that, Duncan ran off upstairs with Beth, leaving Desmond and Bill alone in the living room.

Desmond and his father stared at each other for a minute, neither sure what to say to the other. Eventually, Bill just shook his head, a stern look on his face. "Next time you do something like this…just leave a note or something…? And try not to do it when he's in lessons, either."

Desmond smiled a little at his father. Maybe he did get it after all. "Fair enough."

"Fine. I'm going to go get started on dinner. Go check on your brother in a little bit." And with that, William headed into the kitchen. Desmond just shook his head, still smiling slightly, before heading upstairs to join Duncan. After all, he had to give the kid his new comic books.


	6. Shoe Blades

Every Thursday, after lessons and training were over, the children of Training Group 3-9 would get together before dinner and play. Sometimes they'd climb trees, sometimes they'd play games, and sometimes they didn't do any of those things, and they'd just sit together under a tree and talk. It was then that the kids of Training Group 3-9 weren't future Assassins, training to fight in a millennia long war. They were just kids, having fun after school.

Well, almost all the kids would go play, anyway.

Duncan Miles hung back, watching the other kids from his training group run off to go play. Every week they did this, and every week he just hung back, watching them go before he went home to do his homework. They never asked him to come with them, never insisted he join them…and for the longest time, he'd been fine with that.

He knew the kids in his class didn't like him. They thought he got everything handed to him because he was the Mentor's son, and that he had it easy compared to him. He knew they talked about him behind his back, and he knew that it was because of his father that they ignored him. And he hadn't cared. Duncan was going to spend most of his life working with adults, so why did he need friends his own age, especially ones who probably would've still resented him even if they did invite him to play? He didn't need them. They didn't like him, and he had no reason to like them. He was going to be the best Assassin ever, he didn't need friends his own age.

And then Desmond had come along, and things had changed.

He'd been thinking about what his brother had said, about other kids, and how he should _try _to talk to them before writing them all off. Duncan had tried not to care about the other kids in his class, and what they did after class, or that he never came along…but he did.

He was tired of wondering what it was like, hanging out with people his own age. He wanted to hang out with them, to try and make friends his own age. There was just one problem, though: He had no idea what to say to them.

All his life, he'd spent most of his time talking to adults. He knew what to say and what not to say to them, but with kids, the rules were all different…

So Duncan just hung back, watching as the kids ran off, wondering what he could say to them that wouldn't make them hate him, before shaking his head. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't ready for this.

He sighed, taking one last look before he decided to just go home, shaking his head, defeated. "Maybe it's better this way…I don't even know what to say to them…"

"You could try hi, for starters."

Duncan blinked, surprised at the sound of Desmond's voice. When had his brother arrived at the training complex? He turned around, and Desmond grinned at him, Beth in his arm.

"Hey there, little D. I thought you might need some help…so I brought your favorite conversation topic. Maybe it'll make things easier?"

Duncan just stared, before taking Beth from his brother. He'd seen that the other kids sometimes brought toys into class, hidden in their lunchboxes. Maybe having one of his own would make things easier…if nothing else, it would at least give him something to talk about. Still, he wasn't sure. "Big D, you think this is a good idea? I mean, I haven't seen any other kids with a toy like Beth…"

Desmond snorted, shaking his head, still smiling. "Of course you haven't. None of the other kids have a toy as cool as Beth."

Duncan blinked, looking down at the stuffed bunny in his arms. It was true, Beth was basically the coolest toy ever, and maybe with Beth's support (and Desmond's, too), it wouldn't be so bad, talking to the other kids. "You really think I'll be okay?"

"Of course you'll be okay, my young padawan learner."

Duncan rolled his eyes, smiling at Desmond. "You're such a dork, big D."

"That I am, little D, that I am. Now go out there and make some friends. I'll keep an eye on you, in case you need backup."

Desmond was right. He could do this. He had his brother, and he had Beth. And even if the other kids didn't like him, he'd still have them. So with one last nod to his brother, Duncan headed off to the back of the training center, to begin his very important mission.

Today, the kids in Training Group 3-9 were hanging out under a tree in the back of the training center, sitting in a circle, just talking. As Duncan got closer, he noticed that they weren't just talking; they had their toys with them. A few of the boys had actions figures, some had small stuffed animals, one of the girls had a doll…none of them were as big as Beth, but they all had something like him with them. Okay. So he could talk about Beth without it being too weird.

For a minute, Duncan just watched the kids talk, still unsure of exactly what he should say. But he wasn't going to make any friends his own age if he just stood there, and he knew that. So, with a deep breath and a quick hug from Beth, he headed towards the group of kids, who quieted down the minute that they saw him approaching.

Duncan gave what he hoped was his best smile, waving a little bit. "Uh…hi, guys…"

The kids from his training group just stared at him in silence, a few of them looking irritated. One of the boys (Alistair, Duncan thought his name was), stood up, stepping to stand in front of Duncan. "Miles. What are you doing here?"

"Uh, well…I kind of wanted to see what you guys were doing…"

Alistair snorted, rolling his eyes. "Why would you want to know what we're doing? It's not important Assassin stuff, you wouldn't be interested. Go back home to your dad and do some homework or something."

Duncan blinked rapidly, unsure of why his eyes were suddenly so watery. He knew that this would be the most likely response from his classmates, and he'd mentally prepared himself for the worst.

So why did it hurt so much?

Alistair just shook his head, before sitting down with the other kids, leaving Duncan no room to argue, or say anything at all. He didn't even know what to say…he just stood there, watching as the kids tried to pick up their discussion, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. What did he say now? He could just leave…but Duncan knew that if he left now, he'd probably never try again, and he couldn't just quit.

One of the other kids frowned, looking up at Duncan. "Miles, you're not going to learn anything important here…go be special somewhere else, you're ruining our fun."

He took a deep breath, blinking again, before shaking his head. "I was wondering if I could hang out with you guys…?"

Alistair and a few of the other boys just stared at him for a minute, before laughing. "Are you serious? You want to hang out with us? Why? Your dad want you to start making connections or something?"

"No…I just thought—"

Alistair and a few of the other boys stood up, and Duncan took a step backwards, feeling nervous as he hugged Beth tight. Alistair stepped forward, staring down at Duncan. "Look, Miles. You're a smart kid, so you should understand this: we don't want you here. Everybody thinks you're so great just because you're the Mentor's kid. You brown nose all the teachers and the trainers and get everything done for you because of your dad. Now you wanna come here and kiss up to us, for some reason? We're not as stupid as you think we are. So just get out of here."

Silence fell over the group of kids as Duncan tried desperately not to cry, hugging Beth tight to his chest as he turned to leave. He knew this was a bad idea…he'd tried, and it hadn't worked. He just wanted to go home now, do his homework, and forget this day ever happened.

"Hey…I like your bunny."

Duncan froze in his tracks, turning around back to the group of his classmates. One of the other boys, one of the ones who hadn't stood up with Alistair, was looking at him, a small smile on his face. "It's really cool," he continued, before holding up a smaller plush bunny that flopped in his hand. "I've got this beanie baby, but yours is cooler 'cuz it's bigger."

He didn't know what to say to that for a second. After all that Alistair had said, somebody still wanted to talk to him…and they thought Beth was cool.

Slowly, Duncan smiled, pushing past Alistair and the other boys, who were staring at their classmate in disbelief, going to sit down next to the beanie baby boy. "Thanks…his name's Beth."

Beanie baby boy smiled and held up his bunny again. "Mine's named Leslie…oh, and my name's Kyle."

"Duncan, it's nice to meet you…er, properly, I mean, I know we're in the same class and everything…"

"Beth? Seriously?"

Duncan and Kyle looked up at Alistair, who was shooting Duncan a dirty look, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought you were smart, Miles…Beth's a _girl's_ name, and it's a dumb one at that!"

Duncan stared at Alistair for a second, before turning to Kyle, handing him Beth. "Can you hold him for a second?"

"Uh…sure…"

Duncan nodded, before standing up and moving to face Alistair, the hurt he'd felt at the other boy's insults turning into anger. "Okay, Alistair, listen up. You can say what you want to me, but Beth? Beth is named after my mom. So if I _ever _hear you say something like that again," he paused, fists clenched, as he raised himself up to his full height, looking Alistair in the eye as he continued, "I will show you exactly why I'm the best in the class. And I'll tell you- it's got nothing to do with who my dad is."

Alistair and Duncan glared at each other for a minute, before Alistair broke his gaze, shaking his head. "Fine. Whatever. See you later, Miles." And with that, Alistair left, a few of the other boys following him.

Duncan just stared at Alistair and his gang (or posy. Or whatever those other boys were to him) walked away, pride swelling up in his chest. He'd stood up for himself. He hadn't let Alistair get to him, and maybe, just maybe, he'd made a friend in the process. Duncan turned to the other kids, a few of whom were smiling at him. Kyle handed him back Beth, motioning for him to sit next to him. "Duncan, that was cool! Sorry about Alistair, he's always sort of a jerk…"

"You guys aren't mad at me for that?"

One of the girls laughed, shaking her head. "No, that was neat! Alistair always gets like that, and then he gets all huffy when somebody tells him he's being a jerk. Don't worry about him."

Kyle nodded. "So, anyway, you wanna hang out with us? We were trying to come up with a story for the toys to do, but nobody can think of anything good."

Duncan grinned, nodding eagerly and hugging Beth tight to his chest. Desmond had been right, he would be okay…the other kids weren't so bad after all (except for Alistair, but he was gone, so he didn't count), and maybe by the end of the day, he'd have some friends his own age to play with.

"Yeah! We could maybe do a superhero story, like from a comic book…"

Desmond watched his brother settle in with the other kids from his training group, a small smile on his face. He knew his young padawan could do it…he hadn't expected the complication of jerky little kids (though in retrospect, he shouldn't have been surprised), but Duncan had dealt with the bullies like a boss.

There was a part of Desmond, the overprotective big brother part, that wanted to stay a little longer, just to make sure everything was okay, and that Duncan didn't need him to step in or anything like that. But the logical part of him knew Duncan would be fine. He'd almost gone over there and smacked that little shit that was being mean to Duncan, but his brother had handled himself. He didn't need Desmond hovering from a distance…

And besides, he was running late for his own training, and he wasn't in the mood to get yelled at by trainers he could easily outperform in the field. Truth be told, Desmond was tired of training, period. He'd been home for almost two months now, and if he'd been any other Assassin, he'd have been back out on the field weeks ago. But he wasn't. He was still stuck in training.

Desmond had casually mentioned getting back into the field a few times to his father, hoping that he'd get the hint and actually give Desmond a proper mission. But William dodged Desmond's questions easily, promising to 'talk about it later' or that he'd give Desmond something to do 'soon'. Quite frankly, Desmond was getting sick of his dad's evasiveness…but Bill had always been good at lying and its many variations, including not telling the whole truth.

Desmond sighed to himself, shaking his head as he headed back towards the training compound. He'd try, once again, to talk to his dad about going back into the field tonight. Maybe he'd have more luck this time…at least, he hoped he would. A restless Desmond is an unhappy Desmond, and he was beginning to wonder if he'd need to run off if he wanted to get anything done (the thought was fleeting, though, he knew he couldn't leave Duncan like that.).

So, for now, he was stuck in training. Everybody not involved in their own training in the large obstacle course at the back of the training compound noticed Desmond, a few of them stopping their conversations to just stare at him as he walked by. He wasn't sure if it was because of his arm (or lack thereof, rather), or because he was the Mentor's son, but Desmond seemed to be a favorite source of gossip for several of the younger Assassins.

He wondered for a brief second if all Assassins were as fond of gossip as the ones at the Farm were…but then he remembered his ancestors and the novices and recruits they'd had to deal with. Well, at least that sort of thing never changed.

Regardless, he wasn't here to worry about what other people thought about him. He was here to train, and that was exactly what he was going to do. With a nod at the course instructor, Desmond pulled his hoodie off, tossing it to the ground as he headed for the start of the obstacle course.

The obstacle course was fairly standard, set up similar to those used in military training. The end goal was to get through it in as little time as possible, preferably with as few injuries as possible. Doing the course was supposed to prepare an Assassin for combat scenarios, throwing unexpected obstacles at them, seeing how well they could handle and if they'd be able to get out alive.

Desmond had done the course so many times, he was beginning to memorize the 'surprises' the course liked to throw out at random intervals. Though, he mused to himself as he exited his run of the course, most people going through the course usually didn't go more than once or twice a week, let alone every day.

The course instructor nodded over to him as he went to go grab his hoodie. "Good work, Miles, you shaved another second off your time today. You keep this up, you're going to take the course record."

"You mean I don't have it already?" Desmond laughed, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure nobody's run this thing as often as I have, man. If I don't have the record by now, something is seriously wrong with me."

The instructor just shrugged. "Well, I think your mother still holds the record, but you're getting closer. Go on, they're waiting for you in the sparring ring."

Desmond just nodded, smiling slightly at the instructor as he made his way past the obstacle course, lost in his thoughts. Of course his mom still held the record after all these years. When he'd been a kid, she'd told him the story of how she'd taken the course record out from under his dad's nose, and how she'd held it ever since. She'd told him that to give him a goal to beat, something to strive for during training…of course, he'd always interpreted it as 'I was better than your dad at something, and you can be too.'

He wondered if she'd ever told Duncan that story.

He'd been home for almost two months, and in all that time, there had been no contact from Beth Miles. His father had told him when he came home that his mother didn't want to be found, that she was angry and grieving in her own way, and when she wanted to make contact she would. Still, Desmond had to wonder if Bill was even trying to get a hold of his wife (at least she hadn't made their split official yet), if not for his sake then for that of his sons. His mother deserved to know that he was alive…and Duncan missed her more than he would admit. So did Desmond, for that matter, but as much as he loved his mother and wanted to see her again, it wasn't quite the same as Duncan missing her.

Lost in his thoughts, Desmond had long stopped paying attention to where he was walking. He knew the route to the sparring rings well enough to be able to walk there while spacing out.

Of course, he hadn't thought about other people walking to the obstacle course, and Desmond was jolted back to reality when he collided with somebody, knocking the other person backwards. Desmond mentally swore to himself as he also stumbled back, quickly brushing himself off as he steadied himself. Dammit, he shouldn't have gotten so distracted…

"Christ, I'm sorry, I wasn't pay attention, are you o—oh. Johnson."

The man on the ground glared at Desmond as he lifted himself up. "Miles."

Desmond didn't like Johnson. He _really_ didn't like him. He didn't realize it was possible to dislike somebody whose first name you didn't even know as much as he disliked Johnson. Ever since he'd come back to the Farm, all he'd done to Desmond was tease him and try to pick fights with him, and while Desmond tried to pretend he was above all that juvenile bullshit...well. He knew he really wasn't, and he had a hard time keeping his temper in check whenever Johnson was around.

The two men glared at each other for a moment, before Desmond broke Johnson's gaze. "Well, this has been an enlightening chat, but I've got to go. Have fun in the course, Johnson."

With that, Desmond pushed passed Johnson, grateful they were going in opposite directions. He was in no mood to deal with that jackass right now…granted, he was never really in the mood to deal with Johnson and his bad attitude. Johnson just scoffed, making sure to shove Desmond on his bad side as he walked past. Desmond ignored the sudden sharp pain on his right side, shooting a look over his shoulder at Johnson's back as the other man leaned over to say something to his friend. Desmond wasn't close enough to hear everything that Johnson was saying, but he distinctly heard the phrase 'fucking cripple'.

Desmond was used to getting shit, for many different things, and he could take a lot of the crap that was said about him. But that? Oh, no. That shit did _not _fly with him, and the fact that Johnson didn't even have the balls to insult him to his face…

He stopped in his tracks, turning around. "Hey, asshole!" Desmond called, watching as Johnson and his friend stopped in their tracks (clearly, they hadn't thought Desmond would hear them). "You want to talk shit about me? You better do it to my face."

Johnson turned around, sneering at Desmond. "Fine, then. You think you're so tough, you fucking cripple? Did you beat the course record today, or are you too afraid of stealing it from your mommy?"

Desmond froze, and for a brief moment, he saw red as he was overwhelmed by the desire to break Johnson's nose, feed him his teeth, and run his tongue over with a car (Not all necessarily in that order). He closed his eyes, forcing himself to be calm before turning around and walking over to Johnson, a venomous look in his eyes. "Okay, Johnson, listen up. I hear you say shit like that again, I will kick your ass so hard your kids'll be feeling it every time they try to sit."

Johnson just sneered, glaring at Desmond. "Oh, you want to try it, cripple boy? Why don't you go be special somewhere else, Miles."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that this was a special free zone! Though given that you're here, I'm surprised I missed that."

"You little shit, you say one more word-"

"Oh, I'm so scared, Johnson. Go on, just give me an excuse to wipe the floor with you."

Johnson's glare narrowed, but before he could say anything, his friend stepped between him and Desmond, pushing the two apart. "Okay, you two, that's enough," he said before giving Desmond an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Miles, Jackson just needs to let off some steam on the course, that's all. We'll be leaving now, won't we, Jack?"

Johnson just grumbled, glaring at Desmond for a moment longer before shrugging and moving to walk away. "Yeah, sure, whatever. C'mon, let's get out of here." And with that, Johnson walked away without another word. Desmond just stared at him for a moment, watching in disbelief as Johnson (Jackson? Jackson Johnson. No wonder the guy was a douche) walked off as if nothing had happened. Desmond gave Johnson's friend a look. "Is he always like this, or does he just hate me?"

The other man shrugged. "I think it's a little of both, honestly. Jack's always had a bit of a temper, but you really seem to set him off for some reason. Don't let him get to you, though." And with that, the other man was off, following after Johnson to the obstacle course.

Desmond just stood there for a moment, before taking a deep breath, suddenly very glad he had sparring practice next. He really needed to kick the shit out of something, and he just felt sorry for whoever got stuck as his sparring partner.

Before he'd run into Johnson, Desmond had only been mildly interested in going to the sparring rings for practice matches. But afterwards…well, it had been exactly what he'd needed. A few rounds of capoeira had really helped calm him down and take the edge off his temper, without causing irreparable damage to his sparring partner.

It wasn't like Desmond hadn't heard comments about his arm before. He knew people talked, he'd heard some of the things they said when they thought he couldn't hear. 'How did he lose his arm? Can he really be a good Assassin like that?' He'd heard the comments, and yeah, they'd stung a bit at first, but he'd gotten used to them. They never really made him angry, at least not anymore. Hell, Shaun called him 'stumpy' all the time, and it never set him off.

But when Johnson said it…it really pushed him over the edge. Maybe it was because when other people talked about his arm, it came from a place of curiosity or sympathy…which he didn't like, but he could at least understand. And Shaun, well, that was just Shaun. Shaun's insults came from a good place (usually. It wasn't always easy to tell with Shaun). But Johnson…his insults came from a place of real hate.

Desmond didn't know why Johnson disliked him so much, or what he'd ever done to the other man, but he'd really pissed the other man off somehow. Regardless, he just wasn't going to let the guy get away with insulting him just because Johnson had a stick up his ass and wanted to play it on him.

And he wasn't going to let one 'cripple' comment get to him anymore than it already had. He was going to go work out in the gym, take a shower, and move on. Johnson was a dick, his opinion didn't matter.

The gym was relatively quiet, with only a few people working on the equipment. Nobody gave Desmond a second glance as he walked in, and he grinned to himself as he headed over to his favorite piece of equipment. At least he could work on the curl bench in peace without having to worry about Johnson or anybody else.

Desmond got at least twenty good minutes on the bench in before his peace was loudly interrupted.

"Hey, Miles!"

Desmond groaned. Seriously, what the hell was Johnson's problem? Couldn't the jackass find somebody else to bother? Maybe if he just ignored him, he'd go away.

"Miles, I'm talking to you! Or is your hearing just as crippled as the rest of you?"

Desmond closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he mentally counted to ten, before getting up. Clearly, Johnson wasn't just going to let this go, so Desmond was just going to have to deal with this and hope Johnson would leave. All he wanted to do was work out in peace, was that too much to ask for?

"What do you want now, Johnson?"

Johnson smirked. "Wanted to see if the cripple boy had the balls to finish what he started earlier. Go on. I wanna see you try to kick my ass."

Desmond just stared at the other man in disbelief. Seriously, he was _still _on about that? What the fuck was this guy's problem? Desmond pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath. Johnson wasn't worth the energy it would take to kick his ass. "Okay, look. First off, you started it when you called me a 'fucking cripple'. Second, I could kick your ass without breaking a sweat. But I'm not going to, you and you know why? You're not worth the effort it would take, and I really don't want to deal with you right now. So, I'm going to go back to the bench, and you can do whatever the hell it is you do, but we're done here."

Johnson just glared venomously as Desmond turned to walk away. "Oh, what, you a coward, cripple boy? Can't fight without somebody backing you up?"

Desmond just ignored the other man as he headed back to the bench.

"Christ, you're just as useless as your brother. He's a real chip off the old block, waste of talent just like you."

Desmond froze in his tracks, before very slowly turning around to face Johnson, face unnaturally calm. "…what did you just say?"

Johnson just smirked triumphantly. "Oh, what, that your brother is turning out to be a useless waste of space just like you? What are you going to do, tell your traitor girlfriend on me? Oh wait, you can't, because you killed her. Good work on that, by the way, saved us real Assassins the trouble."

Johnson barely had time to blink before Desmond moved, rushing over at an unnatural speed to punch the other man in the face, something crunching under the force of Desmond's fist (and _oh, _did he relish the sound of the other man's nose breaking). Just as quickly as he'd moved to punch Johnson, Desmond grabbed Johnson by the throat and shoved him against a nearby wall, pinning him there.

"Listen here, you useless waste of space," Desmond said, eyes murderous. "I'm willing to let you make as many cracks at me as you like. I can take it. But if I _EVER _hear you say anything about Lucy or Duncan again—", he paused, tightening his grip on Johnson's neck, "I will face fuck you with my fucking knife. Do we have an understanding?"

Johnson didn't respond immediately, eyes wide with fear. Desmond's glare just narrowed as he shoved the other man against the wall once more. "I _SAID_ do we have an understanding?" Johnson nodded quickly, face pale, eyes still wide. Desmond nodded curly before releasing Johnson, watching for a moment as the other man gasped for air on the ground before shaking his head and turning to leave. Any desire he'd had to continue working out left the minute Johnson started insulting Duncan. All Desmond wanted to do now was take a quick shower and get out of the training center, before Johnson (because Johnson, no matter how scared he was now, would just resume his usual insults tomorrow) or somebody just as stupid as him decided to start giving Desmond crap once more.

Heading for the showers, Desmond debated whether to go for a run or not after leaving the training center. After all, whenever he got pissed off or generally felt low, running did help to even him out…but he didn't exactly have a lot of time left in the day. Duncan was going to need help with his homework, he promised Becca and Shaun that he'd stop by, and he still had to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable argument with his dad that would come when he asked about going back into the field. If he went for a run, he'd lose track of time and let his brother and friends down…and he wasn't in the mood to give Johnson more fodder against him.

With one last look back, to make sure that Johnson or his friends had finally decided to leave him alone for now, Desmond went to the showers, drained and ready for this part of the day to finally be over.

"I'm telling you, Shaun, it makes more sense for the blade to be on the side of the shoe! You may be Mr. History, but you only know about marital arts from books. Kicking with your toe is just a bad idea."

"And _I'm _telling you, Rebecca, that this type of blade hasn't been made before, we need to start small. From a technical point of view, it's going to be easier to implement a blade in the toe than on the side! You're Miss Technical, you should know that!"

Rebecca sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration before responding to Shaun. "Shaun, if we can't get this right, we might not get a next time to make improvements or implement better blades. Desmond needs to—"

"Desmond needs to what?"

Rebecca and Shaun both stopped their arguing (or 'foreplay', as Desmond mentally referred to it) as Desmond walked into the room, lopsidedly grinning at his friends. "Hope you two aren't arguing about me."

Rebecca smiled and looked like she was about to say something, before Shaun stood up and cut her off before she had a chance to speak. "Ah, Desmond, perfect timing. Perhaps you can help Rebecca and I settle a little debate we've been having."

Desmond just blinked for a second before nodding. It hadn't exactly sounded like a 'debate' to him, but if he could help them, then he would. "Uh…sure, no problem. What's up?"

"Well, we've been working on something, and…well, it might just be better to show you. Rebecca?"

Rebecca nodded, leaving the room and coming back with…

"Becca, is that a shoebox?"

Rebecca nodded, grinning before handing the shoebox to Desmond. "We've been working on a little present for you. Here, open it!"

Desmond raised an eyebrow, not quite sure why Rebecca and Shaun had decided to get him shoes (or why they'd been arguing about them, for that matter), but he nodded, moving to sit down in a nearby chair, opening the box. The shoes insides weren't anything special. They were regular black sneakers, much like the ones he usually wore, and while it was nice that Becca and Shaun had gotten him a present, he still didn't understand why they'd been fighting about shoes.

"Er…they're nice, Becca. I could use new shoes, thanks. But I don't get it, they're just shoes. Why were you two fli—fighting about them?"

Rebecca just grinned, looking very much like she did anytime she talked about working on Baby. "Well, we weren't fighting about the shoes, per say…more about what's in the shoe." Desmond just stared, still not sure what Shaun and Becca were getting at.

Shaun sighed (rather overdramatically, Desmond noted), rolling his eyes. "Well, Desmond, ever since you decided to take a page out of Malik's book, Becca and I have been thinking that you might be in need of a different kind of hidden blade. You know, so you don't accidentally stab, dismember, or in any way injure your one remaining hand."

Rebecca nodded excitedly, still grinning as she continued. "So, we designed a whole new type of hidden blade! The blades are in the shoes!"

Desmond just stared at Shaun and Rebecca for a minute before looking down at the shoes once more. They still looked like ordinary shoes…but being hidden in plain sight was one of an Assassin's primary skills, and in this day and age, applying that principle to one's weapons as well made sense.

Not to mention, Shaun was right…he had been having trouble getting used to using one hand for two, sometimes three weapons. If he screwed up and hurt himself somehow, his father would never let him hear the end of it, and he'd be stuck in training even longer. These shoe blades could be the key to convincing Bill that he was ready to go back in the field, that he'd adjusted enough and was ready to get out of training and actually _do _something again.

Desmond looked at the shoes a moment longer before looking up at Shaun and Becca, grinning. "You guys are the best. Really, thank you so much, I wouldn't have even thought of shoe blades! That's genius!"

Rebecca beamed. "Careful tossing the g word around, Des, Shaun's gonna get a big head that way!"

"I resent that, Rebecca. Now, it's all well and good that you like them, Desmond, but you haven't helped Rebecca and I settle our debate."

"Shaun, he already likes them, that should settle it!"

"He hasn't seen how they work yet, he doesn't know what he likes!"

Desmond fought the urge to roll his eyes at Rebecca and Shaun started 'arguing' again, wondering if he should leave the two of them alone to argue in peace. He sighed, shaking his head. They could flirt later, he was sort of curious as to what they were fighting about. "Okay, so what exactly is it that you need me to help you two with?"

Shaun responded first, moving to take one of the shoes, pushing on the back of the heel. Desmond watched as a curved blade sprung out of the outer side of the shoe, impressed. "So, what's the problem, it looks great!"

Shaun just gave Desmond a look, putting the shoe down. "The problem is that Rebecca and I can't agree on blade location or material. She wants to go with steel blades on the side, I want to go with carbon fiber blades on the front."

Rebecca snorted. "Shaun, I told you, it makes more sense to be on the side, no decent fighter kicks with their toe! And going with the steel blade is more efficient. It's going to be less likely to break and more likely to do the most damage!"

"And I told _you_, Rebecca, you're forgetting about metal detectors! A blade that doesn't break isn't going to do much good if Desmond gets detained before he even has a chance to get close to a target."

Rebecca groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose, before turning to Desmond. "As you can see, we've been going in circles about this for a little while. You're holding the latest of our prototypes, but we don't know how well they work because they've never actually been tested. It's why we keep coming back to these little things…"

Desmond just nodded, moving to pick up the shoes again, retracting the blade as he did so. "Right, so what can I do?"

Rebeccca smiled, nodding to the shoes in his hand. "Test them. Take them to training, rip apart a few dummies…see if you can get your dad to give you a mission, anything! Once we know how they work in a practical sense, we can work out the kinks and adjust accordingly."

Test them out…

Desmond looked down at the shoes once more, thinking. He'd been planning to talk to his dad about getting off the Farm and actually being useful, and with the shoe blades backing him up as proof that he could actually fight…he might actually have a chance.

"Yeah, I can test them out for you guys. I'll talk to Dad tonight, see if he'll actually give me something to do before I die of boredom."

"Yes, well, try not to do that, I doubt that you'll be lucky enough to resurrect yourself again, and then who would help us settle our argument?"

Desmond just rolled his eyes, laughing. "Ha ha, very funny Shaun. If I die again, you're the first person I'm haunting."

"Yes, yes. Now, I believe you have business elsewhere, Desmond?"

Desmond was about to argue that no, he didn't, and that he rather enjoyed watching Rebecca and Shaun flirt, but from the look that Shaun was giving him, he had the feeling they wouldn't just be flirting soon. "Aaah, I gotcha. I'll see you two later…use protection, Shaun!"

Shaun sputtered, going bright red, and Desmond just laughed as he headed out the door, new shoes in hand.

Bill wasn't back yet when Desmond got home, but from the school books on the coffee table, it looked like Duncan had beaten both his father and his brother back home.

"Hey, little D! I'm back!"

There was a noise from upstairs, and Desmond grinned slightly as his brother headed downstairs, quite a bit dirtier than he'd been when Desmond had last seen him.

"I take it you had a good time with your friends?"

Duncan nodded, smiling at Desmond. "Yeah! You were right, Desmond, the other kids really aren't so bad…well, most of them were okay, a few of them were sort of jerks."

"There's always gonna be jerks out there, little D. You just need to learn how to deal with them, that's all. Managing to have a good time despite their bad attitudes? That's a good way of dealing with them."

Duncan nodded, frowning slightly as he looked up at Desmond. "Are you speaking from experience, Desmond?"

Desmond hesitated, tempted to tell Duncan that yes, he dealt with all the jerks and assholes in his life through nonviolence and fun. But Duncan was smart, he'd see through that lie in an instant. "Well, partially. Sometimes having a good time and being nice isn't always enough. But I don't think you need to worry about that just yet, kiddo. Just keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be fine."

Duncan grinned before moving to sit on the couch, grabbing one of his books as he did so. He'd been smiling a lot more lately, Desmond noted to himself as he sat down next to his brother. Duncan still took some things too seriously, yeah, but Desmond wasn't expecting his brother's personality to change overnight (or at all, honestly). He was just happy the kid was lightening up a bit and acting more like…well, like a kid.

"Oh, Desmond! Dad called, he's gonna be back late tonight. You're apparently supposed to make sure I do my homework."

Desmond snorted, shaking his head. "I don't think I need to worry about you slacking off, little D. Did he say anything else?"

"Nothing really important…you're supposed to make dinner, though, and make sure I get to bed at a reasonable hour—"

"So, what I do every night, then."

"—and he wants to talk to you about something when he gets home. He didn't say what, though."

Desmond blinked. What could his dad want to talk to him about…and more importantly, what was so important that he couldn't pass it to him via Duncan?

"Desmond? Hey, Earth to Desmond!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry, little D. Must've spaced."

Duncan just rolled his eyes, smirking at his brother. "You're really weird sometimes, Desmond."

"You know you love it, bro," Desmond responded, a smirk identical to his brother's on his face as he moved to playfully shove Duncan. "C'mon, let's go get dinner started. You're good on the homework front, yeah?"

Duncan nodded. "Yeah, I got most of it done with some of the other kids. I still have a little bit of reading left to do, though."

"Cool, cool…so, you think you'll be up for some Avatar after dinner, then?"

Duncan lit up, nodding eagerly as he practically jumped off the couch, darting towards the kitchen. "Would I! You left off at a terrible cliffhanger, I wanna see if they fend off the siege!"

Desmond laughed, following after Duncan . "You help me make dinner, and I promise I won't spoil the ending."

By the time William got home, Duncan had been in bed for at least an hour and Desmond was on the couch, flipping through one of his brother's textbooks, bored. Duncan had made him promise not to watch any more of Avatar without him, and after the internet had gotten dull, he'd decided to see exactly why his brother enjoyed reading his schoolbooks for fun.

Clearly, there was something Duncan knew that he didn't, because all Desmond had learned was that textbooks are not fun reading material.

William stood by the door, watching Desmond, eyebrow raised. "Is there a reason you're reading one of Duncan's schoolbooks?"

Desmond shrugged, shaking his head and setting the book down as he sat up. "Not really. I was bored and wanted to see why Duncan likes reading these things."

"Duncan did his homework?"

"Yep, and he went to bed a while ago. Sorry, Dad, you don't have anything to yell at me about," he responded with a slight smirk. William just sighed, shaking his head.

"Very mature, Desmond."

Desmond grinned. "Yeah, I know. So, Duncan mentioned you wanted to talk to me about something?"

William nodded, moving to sit next to Desmond. "That's right. Son, I know that you've been antsy lately-"

"Well, I've only been cooped up here for two months with nothing to do."

Willam shot Desmond a look before continuing. "And I know that you've been itching to go on a mission. So, I've got something for you to do."

Desmond instantly perked up upon hearing that, grinning slightly as he sat up. "Well it's about time! So, what've you got me doing?"

"You're going to be providing intel for an upcoming infiltration and rescue mission."

The excitement that Desmond had felt at _finally_ being given something to do died away immediately, replaced with a mixture of confusion, disappointment, and irritation.

"Are…are you serious? You've got me on _intel_? Dad, that's not giving me a mission. That's giving me a fucking desk job!"

"Well, this is what I'm giving you. You can either take it, or I'll find somebody else who will," his father responded, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

But when had that ever stopped Desmond before?

"C'mon, Dad, you're being ridiculous. Why can't you put me on a proper mission? I've been stuck doing training for two months, I'm getting bored! I know you don't have a lot of people to put on the field, and I'm one of the best you've got!"

William sighed, shaking his head. "It's precisely because you've only been training for two months that I'm not putting you on the field. Three months ago, you were dead. Two months ago, you come back from the dead missing an arm. You're not ready to go back into the field yet."

Desmond stared at his father in disbelief. "Are you serious? I lost an arm, yeah, but I'm not fucking broken! What does it matter that I was dead three months ago? I'm here now, and I'm tired of being locked up here."

"I'm well aware of the fact you're not broken, Desmond. But whether you like it or not, it's something I need to consider when deciding whether or not to put you in the field. You lost your blade arm, how do you plan to compensate for that? How well can you climb with one arm? You've got one hand to wield all your weapons on, how do you plan to do that without hurting yourself? You need to think about these things! Two months isn't enough time to fully adjust to your new circumstances, and I am not going to put your life at risk because you're bored."

"What do you think I've been doing for the past two months? I haven't been just sitting on my ass doing nothing, I've been training, adjusting, just like you wanted me to! I'm ambidextrous, and I've lived through three...no, FOUR guys who were right hand dominant. I know how to use a hidden blade on my left hand."

William took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, clearly annoyed. "You're not listening to me. It doesn't matter if you know how to use a hidden blade on your left hand, the fact is, you've only got your left hand. You need to be able to use a hidden blade, a gun, and a knife, all on the same hand. If you've got your hidden blade drawn but suddenly need to go for a knife, you need to be able to do that quickly and without injuring yourself. You've only got one hand to cock and reload a gun with, what if you suddenly have somebody attacking you from close range while you're doing that? These are all factors you need to take into consideration."

For a moment, Desmond wasn't sure exactly what to say to his father. He knew his father wasn't right, he knew he could handle the complications...but Bill wouldn't just accept it without some sort of proof.

And then he remembered. The shoe blades. He didn't have to tell his father how he could work with these complications, he could show him.

Without saying a word, Desmond ran past his father to grab his bag, taking the shoes out and slipping them on before turning back to face Bill. "What if I used these?" he said, pressing down hard on the heel of one of the shoes, the blade springing out from the side as he did so. "These could help take some of the responsibility off my hand so that if I'm in one of those situation, I've got something to go to!"

William stared at the shoes for a moment before pinching the bridge of his nose, frowning. "I told Rebecca not to tell you about those until we'd had a chance to test them...those are still just prototypes, Desmond, we haven't had a chance to test them in the field yet, we have no idea how well they actually work."

"Wait, you knew about these? And you weren't going to let me be the one to field test them? Becca and Shaun said these were designed for me, I should be the one to test them out!"

"Desmond, for once in your life, will you please just listen to me and do what I tell you? I am not going to risk losing you again!"

Desmond and his father glared at each other, fuming in silence for a moment.

"...Dad...? Maybe you should let Desmond go on a real mission...isn't he gonna have to go on one eventually anyway?"

Both Desmond and Bill turned around, surprised at the unexpected third voice that had decided to chime in on their argument. Somehow, while Desmond and William were arguing, Duncan had crept out of bed and slipped downstairs, somehow managing to avoid being noticed by either his brother or his father.

William stared at his younger son for a second in disbelief. "Wh...Duncan! What are you doing up?" he said before turning to Desmond, shooting him a look. "I thought you said he was in bed!"

Desmond shrugged, fighting the urge to smirk (damn, it was sort of impressive how sneaky that kid could be). "I said he was in bed, Dad. I didn't say he was asleep. You never said I had to make sure he was asleep."

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me. Duncan, go back to bed, this doesn't involve you."

Duncan just stared at his father, not budging from where he sat on the staircase. Desmond sighed, feeling very exhausted from all the arguing he and his father had been doing. "Dad, there's no point in little D going to bed, us arguing is just going to keep him awake anyway..."

Desmond moved to sit down on the stairs next to Duncan, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, look. I know you're worried for me, Dad, and I get that. I really do. But you can't keep me cooped up here forever! You tried that once, remember how well that worked out? I know you don't want me to die again, but you just need to trust me when I say I'm ready. I'm not going to die, Dad."

"You're not going to just listen to me on this one, are you?"

"Nope. But when have I ever listened to you?" Desmond responded, smiling slightly at his dad.

William looked at his son before sighing and shaking his head, defeated. "Fine. But I'm not letting you take on a solo mission just yet. You'll be going in with a team."

Desmond grinned and nodded, trying not to sound too excited as got up off the stairs. "That works fine for me. What're the details, who's on point, who's the target?"

William moved to hand him a manilla folder. "All the details about the targets are in there. You'll be on a team of three, Johnson's going to be on point, Carver's on support."

Desmond's grin didn't even falter at the mention of having to work with Johnson as he took the folder from his dad. "Cool, cool. When do you need me to leave?"

"You've got about a day to read up and prepare before you'll be leaving. Go over the file, get your gear ready...and both of you, go to bed. It's late," Bill said, giving both of his sons a stern look, "and one of you has school tomorrow."

Duncan grinned sheepishly at his father, mumbling out a quick apology before darting back up the stairs, waving at Desmond as he did so.

Desmond and William were left alone downstairs once more, Desmond holding the folder with his mission details (his mission, it was so good to say that again).

"Don't worry, Dad. You won't regret this."

William nodded curtly at Desmond before moving to head upstairs. "If things go wrong, I won't be the one regretting it...read the file and get some sleep, Desmond. You've got a big day tomorrow."


End file.
